Jenna's War II: Big Girl
by RowenaR
Summary: There's good news and bad news for Pvt. Jenna Melara. Wait... no, there's only bad news. Want to know what they are? Then read and review it. Sequel to Screw Up, mostly cowritten with joustingforcancer. Ch. 12 added and completed.
1. Chapter 1

**Author: **Yeah, right, me again. Should be still working on "Haunted" :ducks from all the Force lightening thrown at her by her readers: But there was at least one reviewer who expressed interest in the sequel for "Screw Up", and - tada - here it is! Enjoy it and write lots of reviews!

**Summary: **There are good news and bad news for Pvt. Jenna Melara. No, there are only bad news. Want to find out which they are? Read it :) Sequel to "Screw Up", co-written with joustingforcancer.  
**Category:** Angst/Action/Adventure

**Rating:** T, just to be on the safe side

**Disclaimer:** Okay, this is gonna be funny. Star Wars on the whole belongs to The Flanneled One. **But** Jenna and Danna were first introduced by joustingforcancer who was so nice as to lend them to me (and to beta-read). Thank you.

**A/N:**Well, here we go with another Star Wars story of mine, although I don't think it will be as epic as the X-Wing one. Plus this one is co-written with joustinforcancer and more or less a companion piece to his story "Soldier", just like "Screw Up". If you haven't read at least the latter (and yet better: both of them), things could be a little imcomprehensible for you. If you still want to read it and have questions, feel free to ask them. I'll try to answer them. And remember:

Feedback will earn you a cookie, flames will roast my marsh-mellows.

* * *

**Big Girl**

_"It's time to be a big girl now  
And big girls don't cry."_

_Fergie, "Big Girls Don't Cry" _

**One**

"Hey Mel, how 'bout a game of sabacc?" I hear Xanas say behind me, but I keep on reading my datapad. Without looking up, I notice that he sits down at the foot of my cot. I don't acknowledge his presence, keeping my focus on my reading. "Aw, come on. Are you still not talking to me?" Well, what does it look like mister? "Mel... come on!"

He's nudging my foot now. And becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. "Jeeennaaa!" He nudges my foot again. At this point, I have given up on reading and am only pretending to do so to prevent him from bothering me. It's not working very well. He's now leaning his chin on my upper foot, looking at me like a kicked puppy. "How long are going to keep on ignoring me?" Batting his eyelashes at me, he waits for the answer. Well, he's not going to get one, that's for sure.

"Okay. You don't want to talk? I'll make you talk." What the…? He just started to unlace my boots. Okay, that's enough. I draw my feet away. Which doesn't stop him from trying to unlace my boots.

"Will you just stop it? You're behaving like a damn three year old!" Ooops. For a moment, neither one of us says a word. Then suddenly a beaming grin lights up Xanas' face and he points at me.

"She speaks! Oh Force, she has heard me! The sun has risen again!" What an idiot. I tell him that he behaves like a three year old, and he just keeps on making a fool of himself. And me, for that matter.

Exasperated, I fling away the datapad and start lacing my boots again. "Stop messing around, will you? You've embarrassed both of us enough already." He raises an eyebrow.

"Embarrassed? What are you talking about, pray tell?" He folds his arms and tries to look dignified, which is incredibly funny. Now, don't laugh Melara, if you want him to take you seriously. Force, who am I trying to kid? As if he ever did that.

"You know full well what I'm talking about. Now go away." I try to make an adequately annoyed face, and I think I manage it quite well. Doesn't mean he does what I want, though.

"Oh come on, Mel, it's been two weeks since that… incident. You started talking to Magic two days after he got out of the brig, and you never stopped talking to Kreth. The only one that had to come begging was me. Why is that?" He didn't just ask that, right? Because if he did, I'd have to think that he didn't understand anything about women.

"You really don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" Oh Gods. Can I shoot him? Strangle him? Anything? _Please_?

"Hello? You took part in an utterly stupid fight, got knocked out for your trouble, and were proud of it to boot? What would your mother say?" Okay; that was a low blow, but he deserved it. He did something really stupid, and in the end no one gained anything. He went to the brig and is not likely to get promoted for the next hundred years, and I got humiliated more than ever by everyone who was there or heard about the fight from someone who was there. I really thought he might have noticed some of that until now.

"Uh… Magic and Kreth took part in the fight, too, you know. And they're proud of it." Poor Xanas; sometimes I wonder how someone so clever and obviously well-educated can be so dense.

"That's different. They're recon. You're infantry."

He raises an eyebrow. "And?"

"And what? And nothing. That explains everything." Gods, I just hope he doesn't push the issue, because one by one, the arguments are leaving me.

"Private Jenna Melara, if I didn't know better, I would say you've got a problem with double-standards." A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, barely being held at bay. As always, it's making him nearly irresistible. Need to stay firm. Must not look at him.

"So what? Sue me." Oh, that was a good one. Curt and nonchalant.

"Sue me? I'll give you "sue me"." With that he suddenly pounces me and starts tickling me, making me squeal and struggle against him. Unable to say anything coherent through my peals of forced laughter, I try to wiggle out of his grasp and accidentally roll off my cot. For a moment I'm free of him, but before I can get away, he's straddling my torso and pinning my arms on the ground left and right of my face. On his face there's a grin that can only be described as maniacal. It makes him look even more desirable.

He brings his face down to mine, still grinning and panting.

"Do you yield?" Also panting, I stick out my tongue.

"Never." Our breathing has slowed down a little, and suddenly I realize that his eyes are the most intriguing shade of dark green when he's excited. The grin has faded, and something different is starting to show in his face. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was

"ATTENTION!" Months of training and warfare have drilled certain things into us. Like forgetting whatever we are doing and jumping to our feet immediately whenever someone yells "Attention!" at us. Just like now.

Xanas and I scramble up and stand at attention. When I see that it was Tarkker who bawled the order for attention, I have a difficult time remaining cool. The spiteful grin on his face tells me that he called us to attention for something really, really unimportant.

"Mail distribution. I'll call the names, and people will get their mail. No scrambling for letters, no shouting, no queuing up. You got me?" Gods, whoever made that guy a Corporal and Sarge's replacement?

"Yes, sir!", everyone calls out, but I can see a few people who are doing it through clenched teeth. Good to know that I'm not the only one hating the fact that Tarkker is acting Platoon leader since the LT died, and Sarge will be on the hospital ship for an indefinite amount of time. Is it really that hard to find _some_ Lieutenant to replace Lt. Drennel?

Tarkker barks out the names, and then suddenly I hear him call out "Melara!" For a moment, I'm a little stunned. I haven't gotten any letters for months now, and I thought I would never get any at all. Another "Melara!" – this time a little sharper than before – shakes me out of the reverie, and I walk to the entrance. When Tarkker gives me the envelope, a nasty grin spreads over his face. "Have fun reading it, queeny." I guess I've never really hated anyone before. I think that just changed. For one thing, he's still using that stupid nickname that they gave me aboard the box. Second, the look on his face tells me that he probably opened my letter and read it; now knowing that there's something distinctly unpleasant inside.

It seems he's taking his time with finishing giving out the mail, or at least that's what it looks like to me. Finally, he's finished and gone, although not without giving me another one of those sleazy grins. Apparently I'm not the only one who noticed it, because the moment Tarkker is out of the tent, Xan turns to me, saying: "What was that all about? What did he say to you?" I just shrug and finally take a look at the envelope.

The handwriting doesn't ring any bells, so I have a look at the sender's address. And my heart nearly skips a beat. It's the address of my family's summer residence on Borleias, a forest moon near Coruscant. When I went away, we agreed on not sending mail to each other so as not to draw attention to my family, with only real emergencies being the only exception. We would use this address then, because no one knows that house belongs to us. Whatever happened, it has to be something terrible.

Ignoring everything around me, I open the letter, noticing that my hands are shaking. The paper in my hand feels strange. It's been years since I last saw and wrote on real paper, not flimsyplast or datapads. Unfolding the sheet of paper, I already feel my throat constricting, and terrible dread settling in my stomach. Finally, I read the text.

_Dad died yesterday. Come home Jen. We need you._

And that's it; that's everything. Still, that's all it takes for my world to begin crumbling, and falling down around me.. The writing before my eyes begins to blur, and the sudden need to be out of this stifling tent full of people overwhelms me. Without saying anything, I storm past a bewildered Xanas, with no destination in mind. I just need to get out for a while... anywhere else but here.

I don't know how long I've been sitting here, and I don't care either. My head is empty of any thoughts of the war, and I feel a numbness that is almost comforting. Not even the infernal Tatooine heat or the glaring light of the sun bothers me now. I don't feel pain or heat or anything else. Which, to be honest, scares the living daylights out of me. Shouldn't I be bawling my eyes out or something? Screaming in pain would be appropriate too, right? But for some reason, the only thing I feel is a strange sense of detached numbness.

"Jenna?" And that would be Danna Kreth. She's my best friend, but right now I just wish she would leave. I don't want anyone expressing their sympathy to me, not even Danna. At least not right now. "Hey, uh, can I sit down?" I say nothing, hoping she'll take the hint. Of course, she doesn't. "I'll take that as a yes." she says and sits down beside me.

For a while, neither of us says a word, and I'm thankful for it. The last thing I want to do now is "talk it over".

"Jenna… for what it's worth, I'm sorry." And that was exactly the wrong thing to say. But I already offended her once by being too closed off... by pushing her away. So I force myself to answer.

"You don't need to be." I'm not looking at her, but at the endless desert and the stunning sight of the day's first sunset in front of me. She takes her time in answering, obviously sensing something in me. It's something I noticed very soon after meeting her: Her ability to just... _know_ certain things without even asking. It can be really scary at times.

"You know… you gave Farrayn a real scare back in the tent." Huh? What's Xanas got to do with all of this? "Really, I never saw a guy more worried. Okay, maybe apart from Magic when I arbitrarily decided to go with the rescue crew without telling him, back when your box crashed. But Korwin's a natural worrier. Farrayn isn't, as far as I know, so something must be up. You want to tell me how bad it really is?" Very clever. Using Xanas as a mean to get me to talk. Not that it'll work or anything, but I have to commend her on her strategy.

We are silent again. Impressive. I knew that Danna was patient, but I never thought she could be this patient when she wasn't in the field. "Come on, Jenna. At least tell me what that 'Jen, we need you.' line was all about. And what are you going to do about the whole thing?" Okay, so maybe she isn't as patient as I thought. And I guess I owe her at least _some_ kind of an answer. Plus, she might leave me alone when she gets what she wants.

"They need me for my father's funeral. On Chandrila, when a family member dies, it's always the oldest daughter that performs the necessary rituals for the _ch'tartha _of the deceased person to find their peace. I already had to do it for my mother, although we never had a body." I'm a bit afraid of my own voice, sounding so even and detached. As if I was a narrator of some documentary holo.

"I… see. And do you want to do it?" Okay. Time for a crash course in Chandrilan burial traditions for Danna.

"It's not a question of wanting to do it; I _have_ to. It's my duty, and there's nothing that can release me from it. If there was, they wouldn't have contacted me. I need to go. In the next two days, if possible." And how I wish I wouldn't have to. My mother's funeral had been hard on me, but then at least I didn't have to look at her dead body. And my father did all the organization. Now I have to do both: The organization and the ritual.

"Jenna… you know that it could be a trap, right?" Of course I do. I've already thought of that. I'm not stupid.

"Yes. My family has a certain reputation because of my mother's service to the Old Republic and the Alliance, but my father managed to make himself invaluable to the Imps by supplying them with certain luxury goods. Anyway, even if it is a trap, I need to go. Either my father really is gone, or someone is trying to draw us all back home. Either way, my family needs me."

"But you really shouldn't go alone." I jump a little. Does he always have to startle me like that? And what was he doing eavesdropping on us anyway?

"This is none of your business, Private." And it really isn't. Who does he think he is? And why isn't Danna saying something?

"Jenna… he does have a point, you know." Hey! That's not what I meant with "Say something, Danna."!

"Of course I do. And it is my business, because it concerns you Mel." What the fuck is happening here? Why are they ganging up on me?

"Look, Jenna, I would go with you, but I can't leave. Recon is getting a lot of work right now, and it doesn't look like the patrol schedule is going to get any lighter. So… we thought… that maybe… Xanas could accompany you." What the… "_we_ thought"? Who in all hells is "we"? What right do they have to decide who, if anyone, is accompanying me? This is just too much.

Without saying anything, I jump up and start running away blindly, once again seeking my solitude. I need to find someplace quiet, where no one will ask me about the letter, about Chandrila, about my father; where no one will try to force me into taking someone to share my pain with.

I stagger through the camp, not caring where I'm actually going. Around me, dusk is setting in, and like in every desert, it doesn't take much time to grow completely dark once the last sun is down. In my blind fury, I bump into something solid. On second glance it reveals itself as the backside of the mess tent. Well, it's a good enough for taking a short break. I slowly sink to the sand outside the mess tent, my back resting against the fabric that makes up the back wall, and tune out the rest of camp as wordless sobs begin to shake my body.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

_I squeeze my eyes shut and pull the trigger. The laser beam hits the sand person. It doesn't stop it though; it's body jerks slightly with the force of the bolt striking it, but it's still charging at me. I pull the trigger again, again shutting my eyes briefly. The sand person jerks again, but continues towards me. Its walking now, slowly, but I just can't stop it. Now it's right in front of me, pointing its obviously stolen Imperial blaster rifle at me. The mask is impossibly contorting into a terrifying smile, and the sand person pulls the trigger of the rifle. The barrel discharges a bright red bolt, sending it straight at me._

The first thing I notice is the cold. And that someone's shaking me. Or is it me who's shaking?

"Mel? Come on, wake up. Tarkker's going to have a fit if you aren't in the tent by lights out." Huh? What the…? I slowly open my eyes. It's pitch black, but when they have adjusted, I see someone crouching over me; Xanas. Great. I must have fallen asleep in the midst of bawling my eyes out.

"Oh, you're awake. Thank the Gods. Now come on, we need to get back to the tent." For some reason, I feel a little out of it. I hear his words, and I know that he's right, but I don't really get the same feeling of urgency that he seems to have. In fact, I could care less about Tarkker going all Sarge on me. Scary, somehow.

"I… don't care." I say quietly. The light from the stars lights up his face a little, enough that I can see his brows knitting together in a frown.

"Mel, you really don't want to give him new fodder for his attacks on you, right?" What if I did? There are worse things than Tarkker's pathetic attempts at trying to get to me. That frown on Xanas' face for example. Huh? Since when do I care about Xanas frowning?

"I don't care about those attacks, either." I mutter quietly. His hands are resting on my shoulders, and he's absentmindedly caressing my collar bones with his thumps. His green eyes look dark in the shadow of night, almost black, but every so often, a bit of starlight catches them at just the right angle, and they are shining with the same deep green luster of the deep D'arla forests back home.

"But I care about them. Because I care about you. So…do me a favor, and come back to the tent with me. I promise no one will bother you. You will get all the sleep you need." No, I won't. But that's not your fault. It's not your fault that I've been having nightmares ever since our box went down.

I look into his eyes again. There's no sense of pleading in them, just a quiet patience, waiting for me to succumb. At this moment, I so desperately wish that I could forget where we are, throw myself into his arms, and cry like the lost child that I feel like. But I can't. So I do the thing nearest thing to it; I acquiesce. "Fine. But if he yells, let him yell. Don't say anything. He'll quiet down eventually." For a moment, relief shines through in his eyes, then he silently stands up and lends me a hand to help me up. We walk back to the tent in silence, but surprisingly it's not an uncomfortable silence.

Shortly before we reach the tent, he stops again, making me stop with him. "Mel…I know you probably don't want to hear this right now, and you're probably going to freak out, but... my offer to accompany you still stands. Even if you won't take me with you… at least promise me that you'll talk to someone about this when you're ready. Don't retreat into your shell again. Your… smile is just too beautiful for that." Whoa. Did I imagine that or was he really sounding like an awkward teenager on his first date when he said that last sentence? I mean, I've had a sneaking suspicion that he has a little crush on me for a while already, but he never really acted like it before. I guess it's best to just ignore that. Spares all of us a lot of potential embarrassment.

"Yeah, sure. Just give me some time to think about it." He doesn't say anything more; only nods and starts to walk towards the tent again. I follow him.

* * *

"Rise and shine, 1st platoon!" 

Almost relieved, I follow Tarkker's order and get up, eager to leave my cot. This night was one of the better ones, because I didn't even fall asleep. Which meant no nightmares. But it also meant restlessly tossing and turning, listening to the snores and deep, sleep breathing of the others and hoping the night would be over soon.

But the morning isn't any better. Even before I can gather my sparse toiletry to head for my usual morning routine, Tarkker calls me to him. When I arrive, he doesn't even wait for me to salute and report, but barks out his order at once: "Captain Borlin wants to see you at 0700. Hurry up, lazy ass." Before I can answer with a "Yes sir!", he's already gone to harass a few other of the platoon members. Stupid asshole.

I take a short look at my wrist chrono. I have exactly 28 minutes to be showered, dressed, and standing before the Captain. Well, that means either no breakfast or even less time for cleaning up. Great.

In the end I decide to skip the slop in the mess tent, and take the short amount of extra time to shower off a few days worth of sweat and grime. For breakfast, I grab a couple of ration bars from my pack. I finish the last one right in front of Borlin's tent as I'm about to walk in. After swallowing the last bite and making sure I look 'Tatooine' presentable, I take a deep breath and then enter the tent.

Sitting behind a makeshift desk in the front area is Borlin's new aide, a rather youthful Devaronian male with Corporal's stripes on his jumpsuit. He shows his impressive teeth in a smile and says: "And you are…"

"Private Jenna Melara, reporting as ordered. Sir." I add as an afterthought. Calling a fellow enlisted man "Sir" is still beyond my understanding, but it just wouldn't get me anywhere questioning that habit right now.

"Ah, I see. You can go through." He jerks his head in the direction of the second flap. Taking another deep breath, I enter the lion's den.

Borlin immediately looks up, and I stand at attention and report. He just nods and orders me to stand at ease. Then he leans back in his chair and says: "I don't like to beat around the bush, so I'll get straight to the point. Your platoon needs a new leader. We won't be getting any new officers for quite some time, as Alliance High Command seems to think they're needed elsewhere, so someone up the chain of command decided we were going to send one of our enlisted men to OCS. They've decided to send you. Congratulations." A smirk crosses his face, and the sarcastic manner in which he congratulated me makes me think that this is probably not the most fortuitous thing that's happened to me in the Army. Frankly, I'm not  
inclined to disagree.

He raises his eyebrows. Oh, of course, it's expected of me to say something. "I… thank you, sir. But… permission to speak freely?"

He shrugs, then says: "I'm always interested in what my soldiers have to say." The hell you are, you arrogant bastard.

"Sir… why me? Corporal Tarkker is already leading the platoon in Sergeant Dankin's absence, and Sergeant Dankin will be returning sometime in the next few weeks."

Borlin raises his eyebrows again, and this time it almost looks like approval. "Quite frankly, I have no idea who would want to make you an officer. I would imagine that it probably has something to do with your last name, and honoring your mother's memory as a great Naval officer and all that shit."

I know that infantry officers don't really appreciate fleet officers, but he could at least fake a little respect, couldn't he? "Anyway, Tarkker's an incompetent asshole, and Dankin might not return to your platoon. Plus I don't want any trouble with High Command. So, you've got two weeks of leave, and then you ship out for whatever kind of officer's training they give nowadays. The contact info is on the disk before you; just make sure you don't lose it when you're doing whatever people like you do on leave."

I know that this means I'm dismissed, but some little demon must be riding me today. Or maybe it's just lack of sleep. "Sir… I want to make a proposition." He looks up again. Oookay. He's positively pissed that the incompetent Private who's been promoted straight to Lieutenant is still bothering him. That doesn't surprise me at all. What does surprise me is him saying: "Shoot."

"Yesterday… I got a message from home, saying that my father died and that I need to go home to perform his funeral rites. However, considering my family name, I fear that it might be a trap, because Chandrila is occupied by Imperial forces. So… I want to take someone with me as backup." A lazy hand gesture tells me to go on. "I… want Private Farrayn to come with me."

He leans back again, looking at me as if his eyes could shoot blaster bolts. "First of all, why go back to Chandrila at all? You are a soldier of the Alliance, and your duty is first and foremost to us. If there's any danger of compromising any information about the unit, I am well within my rights to forbid you from going there at all." Great; just what I need. Having to explain to Captain 'I don't care about whether you have families out there or not, because this is your family now' Borlin why it's essential for me to return to my home planet.

"With all due respect, sir… I am the eldest child in my family and as such it's my duty to perform certain rituals at a family funeral. It's Chandrilan tradition. It's crucial that I be there. Besides, my father took enough care to ensure a safe journey to Chandrila in case of an event like this. Nothing will be compromised. I just want to be on the safe side." Dismay is crossing his face again. But it seems that he's already leaning towards authorizing the trip.

"I can't spare any extra soldiers, and you know that. Or you _should_ know that. The only reason you're getting leave is because Tatooine High Command thinks you deserve a vacation before becoming responsible for the lives of almost fifty other soldiers. Besides, Farrayn lost all leave privileges in that stupid barfight two weeks ago. There's only two ways for him to get off this rock; with the rest of us, when we finally kick the Imps off, or in a body bag." He's looking almost smug now, the rotten bastard.

"I know that, sir. But… his conduct has been faultless since then. And he is showing real signs of regret." Lying through your teeth now, are you? My, my, what has gotten into you, Melara? "Besides, he's only a Private, and he hates Tarkker like Magic hates Dankin. Sending him with me would mean at least two weeks of peace in the platoon. Sir." He looks me straight in the eye, and I manage not to flinch. Wow. Major once in a lifetime moment here.

After what seems like an eternity, he says: "Fine. Take him wherever you like. Just don't let it show in your performance when you get back." Thank you so very much for the implying that I'm a slut, sir. And here I thought you were a stiff old coot with a stick up your backside. "Your flight is scheduled for tomorrow at 0700. Civilian clothes only. Nothing military issue, you understand? You may take your personal sidearm with you, however. Now, unless you have any more shitbombs to drop on my head, you're dismissed."

"Yes sir."

He just nods, then says, "Maybe there's something of your mother in you, after all." I snap to attention, toss him a crisp salute and turn on my heel to head out of the tent. Just what was that last remark about my mother supposed to mean, huh?

* * *

**A/N: **Look, sir, a new chapter! And wonderfully betaed again :smiles: So, anyway, if you like it, tell me. And if you don't, tell me all the more. Please? 


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

It's been five hours since I left Borlin's tent, and I'm once again wishing that Tarkker would just drop dead. Someone got on his bad side, and now he's marching us through dunes and sand holes. In full battle gear. Whoever had the brilliant idea to give command of the Platoon to that guy, huh?

Behind me, one of the guys who's even newer than me is panting heavily and struggling in the deep sand. Tarkker's busy driving some people up front crazy, so I risk falling back to help the guy. But when I take a look at his face I immediately holler in the general direction of the people who were before me: "Stop! We got dehydration and sunstroke here." The boy falls face first into the sand. Great.

The first to hear me and come back to me is Xanas, who's not looking much better himself. But I know him; he always looks worse than he feels, and for someone with his supposedly soft upbringing he's got an impressive amount of stamina. Without saying anything, he helps me bring the boy that collapsed into a recovery position. While I try to wake the boy up, the others come back. Just when it seems as if the boy's indeed waking up, Tarkker reaches us. He starts his usual routine at once.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here, Melara?" Oh, aren't we a clever one? Identifying the culprit at once, that's what you're good at, huh?

I stand up, and stare him directly in the eyes. "Helping a downed comrade. What does it look like to you?" I don't say "sir", deliberately. I've had it with this asshole. Besides, if everything goes according to plan, I'll be gone by tomorrow, and I'll return as his superior.

"It looks like you're deliberately disobeying a direct order. I told you not to help the replacements. You violated that order." In his eyes there's a strange gleam. Up to now he's been deadly calm, but I know him. It can change any moment.

"We don't leave a man behind. It's a fundamental principle of Alliance military tradition. How about violating that?" To my right, Xanas moves as if to do something, but I manage to stop him with a short side glance.

Meanwhile, Tarkker's cronies have gathered behind him. Great. "The replacements need to learn that in harsh environments such as the deep desert, everyone is on his own. You have no right to question my training methods, Private."

Someone is moaning. It's the boy that collapsed. This is just frigging great. There's someone obviously needing medical assistance, and I need to fight with a petty, spiteful Corporal. "I have every right to question your stupid and inhumane training methods, Corporal. Now stop arguing with me. This guy needs medical assistance immediately, and it's our duty to provide him with that."

"What our duty is, Private, is still my decision. We continue." Okay, that's enough. We're the good guys. We don't leave a man behind. And we sure as hell don't let someone fry in the sun because of some frigging "I'm your drill instructor, call me God!" complex our obviously incompetent leader has.

"You can go on if you want to, but I will bring this boy back to camp. Anyone else volunteering to help?" I take a look around. Every face is closed off. Either they are staring at me in open disdain or trying to avert their eyes out of fear and shame. "No one? Well, well...I never thought Alliance Infantrymen were such a horde of spineless worms. Come on people, I'm offering you a legitimate chance to get out of this stupid waste of a time." Whoa. And I never knew I could be such a manipulating bitch.

"I'll go with you." Xanas. I should be annoyed, but all I feel is relief. With a start I realize that I actually had feared he'd desert me as well. It takes all of my willpower not to show my gratefulness too openly. We'll have plenty of time to talk from tomorrow on. I just hope he'll forgive me.

"See, that man's actually got brains and balls." Did I just see him blush under his tan? Nah, I must be imagining it. "So, anyone else? No? Okay." Tarkker's glaring at me maliciously. Well, see if I care, laser-brain.

I motion for Xanas to move over and we both take one of his arms and hoist him up on our shoulders to drag him back to the camp. Without a word or a look back, we start walking. Only when the whole group has vanished behind a dune, I hear Xanas say: "You know, you just got yourself in a real big mess, right?"

I smirk: "Maybe. But Tarkker doesn't know that the mess he got himself into is even bigger." He throws me a quizzical glance, but I only give him a cryptic smile. Let's see if he can do the math himself.

* * *

One hour later we're sitting in front of the mess tent, chewing on ration bars and taking a swig out of our canteens every now and then. It took us half an hour to drag Private Buff – he told us his name when he was lucid for a short time – back to the camp and another half-hour to get out of the hospital tent and into the Company CP to report to Borlin and tell him of the incident. I swear, I've never before heard a man swear so fluently, in so many languages, so fast. It was a truly awe-inspiring tirade.

Now everything has quieted down a little, and we're waiting for the rest of the platoon to come back. I guess now is as good a time as any to tell Xanas of his good fortune.

"Xan?"

"Mh?" He turns to me, the muscles of his bare torso and arms very visible, since he pulled down the upper half of his jumpsuit. Glistening rivulets of sweat drip slowly and enticingly down his perfectly-sculpted torso. Oh my. Don't get distracted, Melara. It's not as if you haven't seen a man half-naked before, right.

"You still want to go to Chandrila with me?" His head turns around, and a lazy grin is appearing on his face. Just like he already knew I'd not go without him. Cocksure bastard.

"Yeah, why are you asking?" As if you don't know already.

"Because I got us both a ticket out of here. Tomorrow morning we'll be leaving in a shuttle for Chandrila." Now the grin is fully reaching his eyes, making his face glow. Gods, why does he have to look so adorable, like a kid who just got full access to a free candy shop?

"How'd you do that?" Oh, ha, you didn't really believe I'd get the permission to take you with me, huh? "Oh well, I just used my female charms on the Captain…"

His face turns into a mask of disgust. "You didn't… did you?" Grrr.

"You know… just for actually believing that, even for one second, I should let you roast here in the sun." He actually looks hurt now. Well, suits him right for thinking I'd really do any of those things people like Tarkker are spreading rumors about.

"I didn't. Honestly Mel, I didn't! It's just… even the thought of you and… any guy here… it just… makes me shudder, you know." Huh? Is that jealousy talking? I'm speechless, looking away from him, and I'm suddenly showing an unusual interest in the tips of my boots. He gets the hint. "Oh… oh, no, that came out wrong. I really didn't mean… I didn't want to say…" Actually, it does hurt a little, seeing as he's jumping to deny everything so fast.

"You better not have. Because if everything goes according to plans, you'll be calling me "Ma'am" in six weeks." Now it's his turn to be speechless. His jaw even drops, as well as his half-eaten ration bar. Not a pity, if you ask me. They taste like sand anyway. "Don't look at me like that. Captain told me yesterday that I've got two weeks of leave, then I'm to report to a crash course for officers. If I make it through that, I'll be a 2nd Lieutenant by the time I join you again. I'll be Dernel's replacement." Gods, I just hope this sounded as business-like to him as it sounded to me.

For a while, neither of us says anything, then Xanas snorts and says with a grin on his face: "Big mess for Tarkker, indeed." And for the first time after the message of my father's death, I feel a real smile creeping over my face. Maybe, just maybe, I'll make it through it all, after all.

* * *

**A/N: **Dear friends of the Russian language (my mother loves to say that, and it kinda rubbed off on me...), for the upteenth time now: If you happen to like the story, drop a hint. And even if you don't. Please? I mean, see, it looks like we're losing our national hero Jürgen Klinsmann to the US-Americans, least you could do is give me a review in return. Okay?  



	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

"You're what?" Interesting. Tarkker can turn even redder than he did yesterday, when he was trying to make Xanas and me regret my decision to bring Buff back to camp, once he and the rest of the platoon had returned.

"Private Farrayn and I will be leaving in thirty on a supply shuttle for a two week furlough. It's all signed off and approved by the Captain. You want to see the papers again?" It almost looks like he's going to explode, his face is turning so red. Time to look around for shelter. Having Tarkker all over my nearly spotless civilian clothes? Not desirable.

"I don't want to see the damn papers! I want to know what this is all about. And what's that transfer to 'Officer's Training School' I saw in there?" He shoves my leave papers under my nose. Ever so slowly I'm beginning to lose my temper.

"Just what it says... or do you need me to read it back to you? Being able to read is an asset, you know. The Alliance likes their officers literate." Yep, definitely going to be all over the tent in a sec. In pieces.

"You are in shit so deep you don't even know how far above your head it ends. When Dankin's back…" Oh, come _on_.

"Dankin is most likely never coming back. Cap's words, not mine." Xanas chimes in, obviously sensing my fading patience. I feel like I'm radiating enough heat by now to power up a starship.

Tarkker is speechless for a moment, and I use it to snatch the end of Xan's sleeve and draw him with me to the entrance of the tent. Tarkker's cronies, however, have different ideas for us. They're blocking the entrance, standing there side by side with their arms crossed in front of their chests. It's all so cliché that it makes me want to gag.

"Come on guys, you saw the papers and the signature and everything… and you know, in a few weeks, you'll all be calling me 'Ma'am'. If I were you, I'd step aside right now." Another holodrama cliché. Well, apart from starting a brawl in righteous anger, I mean. And somebody already tried that, didn't they Xan?

"I'll be calling you nothing but 'whore'."

Xanas explodes. And I'm surprised that I'm fast enough to step in front of him and stop him from doing anything stupid. I guess we'll really have to talk about this whole 'defending my honor' thing.

"What's the fuck's going on in here? Is there a problem?" Thank the Gods. It's Magic. Sometimes I wonder if the guy's got a sixth sense for trouble or something. Two of the guys turn around, revealing a frowning Magic and Danna standing just behind Tarkker's goons. Suddenly, they don't look so tough. I smile internally as they cringe away from him. They must be recalling the beating they took at the hands of the recon troops in that bar in Mos Espa.

"We… uh…"

"None of your business, _Magic_." Tarkker comes up from behind me, and his cronies move aside now. And there's the exit, the gates of heaven… okay, I'll quit the creative writing student routine already.

"Looks to me like a couple of your boys were trying to prevent my good friends here from leaving." He stresses the word boys, placing special emphasis on it. Magic cocks his head to the side, staring hard at Tarkker. "Looks to me like you folks were trying to start some shit. That makes it my business." Xan is positively glowing at being called Magic's 'good friend'. Magic, for his part, is standing with his hands curled into loose fists at his side, his coal-dark eyes unblinking as he keeps his gaze locked on Tarkker's.

"They were just helping me clear up some very confusing orders from Captain Borlin. Now leave us alone." Wow... Tarkker's really high on making mistakes these days, huh? If he wasn't such a disgusting little schutta, I'd even feel compassion for him.

"Banthashit. Captain Borlin's orders are never confusing. And if he gave them leave papers, then they're damn well going to make their fuckin' ship. Now let em' pass." Dear Gods, they are already sizing each other up. Not good for Tarkker. If I don't do anything to stop this, this will end like that thing in the cantina, and then I'll not get any leave for the next hundred years. And well, the promotion will definitely not be mine, either.

"You know Tarkker, that was a generous offer. Seeing as he how almost smashed your nose flat the last time you two met and everything. And just think of the possibilities… the two banes of your existence gone for at least two weeks…" Ah, sometimes you just have to hit the right chord to get what you want. For at least half a minute, everything is silent. But I can see it already working in his head. He's looking for a way to escape from his now apparently hopeless situation without losing face in front of his friends. Well, he won't. He's been called out by Magic, and he knows that he's already as good as beaten. After a time, he gives his answer.

"Fine. But you won't be coming back for quite a while, and your little friend here," he gestures towards Xanas, "won't have you to watch his back when he's back. Two weeks, and his ass is mine." I swear, if I wasn't secretively squeezing his hand as hard as I could, Xan would have jumped at Tarkker's throat the moment he was done with his little speech. He's been increasingly short-tempered since his brawl in the bar. And bolder too.

"Just don't forget you're not the only one here who isn't afraid to fight." is all I say and then take my bag and walk out of the tent, past the "guards" Tarkker posted there. I hold my head up high, and even manage to completely ignore the "whore" comment one of them hisses at me as I pass. And for once Xan ignores it as well. I guess I'll also have to thank him for that.

When we are a considerable distance away from the platoon tent, we are all letting out a collective sigh of relief. Except for Magic. He still looks like he's spoiling for a fight. Danna's the first to say something. "Holy shit, what did you get yourself into Jen?"

I shrug, trying to sound casual: "Nothing more than anyone would expect from a Melara."

She quirks an eyebrow, and Magic asks: "Expect from a Melara? What's that mean?"

I run a hand through my hair. I don't want to go into details, because somehow everything is reminding me of my father and memories are threatening to spill over. "Ask Captain Borlin. If he's in a good mood, maybe he'll tell you. Or just be patient and wait six weeks and then ask me again." Gods, I just hope my grin can plaster up the cracks that are about to appear in my facade.

Magic shoots Xanas a glance, but he's just shrugging and rolling his eyes as if to say: "Women. What do you expect?" I saw that guys.

We arrive at the shuttle landing zone just as it's about to touch down. The hatch is opening, and someone appears in the entryway, waving and calling for us to board as soon as the quartermaster's crew appears to unload the shuttle. And here I thought they'd take their time with everything.

I turn to Danna, all of a sudden feeling reluctant to leave. She grins, obviously feeling the same, because the grin isn't quite reaching her eyes. "May the Force be with you. And don't do anything foolish." With that she smirks and shortly jerks her head in Xanas' direction. As if he and I ever would do anything like that.

"Wouldn't dream of it. And you keep your boys out of trouble. Force knows they can't do it themselves." I tell her as we embrace. I hope she didn't hear the hitch in my voice at the end.

She grins again. "Sure." I'm almost sure I heard the same slightly choked hitch in her own voice.

Behind me, I hear Xanas huff, and he turns to Magic, saying: "Women. You'd think she'd be just dying of happiness to get away from this hell hole, but suddenly she's getting all teary about leaving it." Isn't he cute when he tries to impress other guys?

"If it's any consolation Melara, you'll be back in six weeks. And we might even still be here." Magic says and smirks. Then he smiles, and says: "Enjoy your time away from the war. Even if it isn't a happy occasion you're leaving it for." He kicks at the sand and looks down at his feet. Glancing back up at me, I see that all trace of humor has completely left his face. "Sorry about your pops and all. You take care, you hear me?"

The guy from the shuttle calls again. "Come on, let's get moving!" Xanas nudges me, and I sling my bag over shoulder and run toward the shuttle behind me. Before I enter, I take a short look back and wave again to Danna and Magic.


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

"Mel? Jenna? Hey, wake up!"

I jerk awake. It feels like my head is filled with cotton balls, all fuzzy and soft. Fragments of memories that make no sense come seeping back into the forefront of my mind, and I feel goose bumps rise up all over my skin.

"Jenna?" A hand squeezes my shoulder very lightly, and I slowly and drowsily turn my head to the source of the soft voice. Finally, the mist in my head starts to clear away. I'm on an Alliance supply shuttle, on my way to Chandrila. I'm sitting by a small view port, with Xanas beside me. A dream; only a dream. I shake my head one last time to clear away the last of the cobwebs. "You okay?" Xanas asks.

I nod slowly. "Yeah, just…just a dream. Nothing serious."

He quirks an eyebrow. "You were murmuring in your sleep and thrashing around. It sure didn't look like 'nothing serious' to me." Has he been watching me or what? Wait... he's been sitting beside me the whole time. And these two seats are the only passenger seats on the small ship. Better not to blame him, because it wasn't really his fault. He had no choice but to see what was happening.

"It's okay. Really. It happens, and then I wake up and it's gone. Don't worry about it." I reply.

Xanas looks away, slowly rubbing his neck. "To be honest… I've been worried about it since the first time I noticed you weren't sleeping right."

My head snaps around in his direction. "_What_? You… you…" Gods, this is embarrassing. He didn't actually see me when it happened, right? Please, let him not having seen anything!

"Yeah, at first I only saw that you weren't quite yourself after the whole thing with the box and that battle with the Tusken. And then I heard you and saw you... I just… I didn't know if I should be waking you up or not. And I anticipated a reaction like that, which is why I never asked before." A sheepish grin fleetingly appears on his face. He's left me speechless for a moment. Again.

"You… uh… you actually… Oh Gods, that means others must have seen it, too. Which means they've got excellent black mail material. Godsdammit!" He holds up his hands.

"Whoa, wait. I'm sure no one else noticed, and if they did, it was because they most likely weren't sleeping well themselves. You usually don't make too much noise. Besides, it's not too unusual to have nightmares after what we've all been through. In fact, I'd be worried if I didn't have those if I was in your place." I shoot him a doubting glance, but he just gives me a reassuring smile.

Then he says: "What, uh…what are they about?" I wish he wouldn't have asked. Because here I can't run away, and I can't just end the conversation by finding something else to do. The only way out is trying to see if I can talk my way out of this.

"Nothing… in particular. Really, just the usual stuff we all probably dream about. It would be boring for you."

He's grown serious again. "I'm not doing this because I need some entertainment. I'm asking you to tell me because I want you to learn to trust me. Telling me something like that would mean you do trust me."

Why's he so hot on trust all of a sudden, huh? "Oh, but I do trust you." Come on, be a good boy, just swallow it.

"No, you don't. But for the thing we are doing here, it's important we trust each other. 'Sides… I really want to know. I do care about you." Okay, he has said that before. Why does he think he has to repeat it over and over again? "So… tell me?"

It's the eyes. In the end… it's always the eyes. Who could ever withstand those sparkling green depths? "It's just… I don't know much of it myself. I don't really remember most of it. Oh, don't look at me like that. Trust, remember?" He smirks. Yeah, well, two-edged swords tend to hurt the owner as well. "There's… one recurring dream though. It varies, but in the end it always comes down to the same thing. I've got the enemy in my sights, I pull the trigger, I hit the target… but I don't stop the enemy. They just… come closer and closer, and I just…"

Two strong arms are encircling me, and a soft voice is making shushing sounds between whispering: "It's okay… I never should have asked… I'm sorry… it's okay…" Tears are running down my cheeks now. I still hate it, but the opening of the flood gates seems irreversible now. And in between all the crying and the shushing and the back and hair stroking, I manage to fall asleep again.

* * *

It seems like only seconds have passed when he wakes me up again. He doesn't comment on anything or makes unnecessary remarks, and for that I'm grateful. Instead he says: "We'll change transports in ten minutes. Get all your stuff ready. And remember: from now on I'm Sav Leecin, an architect from Ord Mantell. I'll explain everything later. Just remember what I told you." His eyes are blazing with a strange green fire, so I take I figure that it's probably vital that I remember the fake name and occupation he just gave me. Still a little dazed from sleep, I gather up my belongings and follow him to the hatch.

A few minutes later, we land in the hangar bay of the large astroid's spaceport and leave the shuttle for our next transport. Suddenly I stop. Sitting on the landing pad next to ours, there's a JS-77B personal shuttle with the name _Jandra _stenciled on it's hull. I nearly start crying, because that shuttle belongs to my family. It was my father's favorite. He named it after my mother. The shuttle's presence here means that either a family member or a loyal servant will be on board. Oh Gods, I really don't know if I can handle that right now.

"Mel? Everything okay? You look like you just saw a ghost." I swallow audibly.

"Actually, that sums it up pretty well." He quirks an eyebrow at me, as if to say "Care to elaborate?"

I take a deep breath. "See that JS-77B over there? That's the _Jandra_, my father's favorite shuttle. Named after my mother, actually." I set out for the _Jandra_, but Xanas catches my arm holding me back.

"Uh, actually… that scrap of paper here says 'lambda-class passenger shuttle Mount Tion' is our next transport." I look back and forth between him and the _Jandra_. I feel a strange numbness setting in, and then… relief. Relief that I don't have to face them yet.

"Right. Lambda-class shuttle _Mount Tion_. Let's go." He shoots me a strange look, but falls in behind me without comment. After a quick search through the hangar, we find the _Mount Tion_. It looks fairly new, and people are already filing up the small ramp at the rear of the Imperial-made craft.

"Remember: Sav Leecin, architect, Ord Mantell." he whispers breathily in my ear. For a moment, I'm nearly paralyzed by the feeling of his breath on my skin.

Then I huff at him, all full of feminine indignation, and I hiss back: "I know. I'm female, not stupid." He just grins and I stick out my tongue at him.

We queue up at the end of the line. When it's our turn, the local space port officer takes our papers. I feel the heat wash over my face and the sweat suddenly trickling down my back, while the officer runs my ID card over his scanner and waits for the results. What if someone somehow found out where I'm going? What if the secret training camp on Chandrila has been revealed, and with it all our data? What if… "You can pass on, Miss Melara. Have a pleasant journey, Ma'am." I have to call on all my willpower not to sigh audibly with relief. Instead I just give him a casual smile and thank him.

Now Xanas is under his scrutiny, and I feel the same thing happening again. And the sudden need to know why this charade. Yes, he told me leaving his home planet wasn't easy, but he never actually told me how he did it. And what if this was all a sham? What if he isn't Xanas Farrayn III, but some agent, some… "And a pleasant journey to you too, Mr. Leecin." The officer hands him back his ID card, and he's looking like this has all been a routine control, nothing to worry about.

When we're finally seated inside, I can't hold back anymore and hiss: "We really need to talk, mister."

He gives me that look that men usually give women when they think that they're being silly. I just hope for his sake that it's all part of our cover. "I told you, all in good time. Be patient, just for once, will you darling?" Okay, so we're posing as a couple. Wouldn't it have been better to tell me before he started to act?

"You really could have told me earlier… puffy-snuffles." Just for a second, I see a flicker of indignation glimmer in his eyes, and that's all I need to feel that sweet satisfaction you get when you hit your target.

"Please honeyduffy, can't we just enjoy this trip for now? I've paid a fortune for it, now don't spoil it by being overly sensitive." Okay. Alright, I got your message. Two can play that game. But I'm not finished, mister. Not by a long shot.

"But, gizkaschmoozy, you said…" And suddenly, his lips are on my lips. For at least a second, my heart stops beating, I swear it. My ability to think coherently disappears as well. Which must be the exact moment when I started kissing him back.

Holy frigging _shit_! With a start, I break the kiss. He opens his mouth to say something, but I turn away from him abruptly. The rest of the trip passes in utter silence.

* * *

**A/N: **Tada, two chapters in one day::bows to beta-reader: Now, give me and the beta-reader the cookies we deserve for that, okay? 


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

"So this is Chandrila huh?", he finally breaks the silence as we approach my home planet's biggest space port, Hanna City. I almost snort at his futile attempt to gloss over the events of just a few hours ago.

But I guess I need to at least say something. "Yeah." Okay, not very genial, and certainly a little frosty. But Xanas Farrayn III. isn't one to easily give up.

"What's this place called?" I wish he would just stop these attempt at casual conversation. In all honesty, I don't want to talk to him. Even less than back on Tatooine after that stupid bar fight. I'm not really sure what it is that makes me turn all passive-aggressive, and I'm still not sure what irritates me more; his totally stupid and absolutely uncalled for behavior earlier, or the fact that I actually started kissing him back. I feel his eyes boring into my back. Great. He just won't let it go.

"Hanna City." Before he can say anything more, the shuttle sets down on the landing pad, and the hatch is opened. People start filing out of the shuttle and in the overall bustle of activity, it's a little easier to escape his glances and futile attempts at casual conversation.

When we leave the vehicle, a rush of salty ocean air mingled with the scents of the small city hits us, and suddenly I feel like crying. I'm home. I'm really and truly home. And I really need to get a grip on my emotions, because I'm only seconds away from breaking down and crying with relief and that strange brand of homesickness you only get after coming home.

Still fighting the tears, I follow the other passengers towards the immigration officers' booth with a very quiet Xanas on my heels. We reach the booth, and my heart nearly stops beating when I see the Imperial insignia on their uniforms. It's painful seeing that the Empire has finally taken full control of my beloved home planet; a planet that values democracy and freedom of speech and thought more than life itself. A planet where tolerance and understanding are the pillars of of our society. It makes me sick to my stomach to think about it.

"Mel? Everything okay?" Oh. Not good. Because if he asks if I'm okay, then it's completely obvious that I'm most certainly not.

"Yeah, sure...just a little tired." I manage to answer, before the immigration officer asks for my papers. It's a woman in her late thirties, which means she knows the name Melara very well, at least if she's a native Chandrilan. Oh my. And here I thought the whole sweating thing in the asteroid hangar was bad. Is it just me, or is she taking an extraordinary amount of time going through her files? Does that mean…

Suddenly, I feel my stomach sink. I hear the sound of boots. _Combat_ boots. Storm trooper combat boots, to be precise. And lots of them. Did I miss her saying something into her comm? Or did she press some button invisible to me? The boots are coming nearer. Then suddenly I see that something white is rounding a corner, and the patrol is stopping only a few feet away from me. Oh my Gods. Oh my frigging Gods…

"Welcome home, Miss Melara. Feel free to proceed." I have to clear my throat to cover up the sudden exhalation of the breath I was holding, just out of sheer relief. Then I smile, take my papers and try to pass on as if nothing happened. I turn around to watch Xanas, putting on a mildly irritated face and softly tapping my foot. Impatient girlfriend waiting for her darling boyfriend to get done. Nothing more. But inside, I feel like I'm standing at the exit to hell, waiting to get out. Thoughts are flying through my head at an almost inhumanly fast rate, with one horrible scenario chasing the other between my ears. If only the stormies would disappear. On Tatooine at least the fronts were clear. And I had the almost invaluable protection of a blaster rifle in my hands, and comrades-in-arms to back me up. Here, all I have are my mother's ancient officer's blaster pistol and my legs to carry me.

Finally, Xan is done and comes toward me, wearing a totally casual apologetic look on his face and giving me a shrug as if to say "Sorry, but it wasn't my fault the whole thing took so long." Girlfriend and boyfriend on vacation. Probably here to visit the girl's family. Nothing wrong with that.

I take up my bag, saying: "We have a house a little outside Hanna, at the shores of the Silver Sea. We'll take a landspeeder cab. Come on." We both turn our backs to the immigration booths, ready to go…

And suddenly I hear a filtered voice behind me saying: "That's the one. Grab her." I think I must have looked panicked, and I'm sure I felt several years being taken off my life at that order. Before I can turn around though, Xanas grabs my arm, urging me forward.

"Not us. Don't turn around. Don't draw any attention to us. Just keep on walking." But there's a choked cry and a gurgle, and the thud of a body hitting the floor. Out of reflex, I turn around and see two stormies holding a struggling Ishi Tip to the floor. I remember her. She'd been on the shuttle with us, sharing some of her meal with us, telling us about her family, and what she would bring them home from Chandrila… And now she's being pushed to the ground by stormies and cuffed for no obvious reasons. I feel a white-hot rage bubbling up inside of me. At the stormies that would arrest a foreigner, most probably because she isn't human, at the immigrations officers that are now wearing Imperial insignias, at…just everything.

"It's not worth it. You can't help her anyway. Don't expose yourself. Think of your family." Xanas hisses near my ear. He's still holding my arm, turning me around against my will, forcing me to look into his eyes. He doesn't say another word, but he doesn't need to. The intense look he gives me tells me not to commit any stupid heroics.

He lets go of my arm, immediately putting one arm around my shoulders and leading me away with a soft kind of force. It's not too difficult though, as resignation seeps in, and I deflate completely. He seems to have noticed it, because his hand is now squeezing my shoulders reassuringly, and he brings his head down to mine, whispering into my ear in a very soft voice: "We'll make it end, I promise. Just not today. Now come on, I really want to see that house on the shore." I feel the now familiar quickening of the pace of my heart, and that removes all other thoughts from my mind.

* * *

**A/N: **Another wonderfully betaed chapter. Yay me and jourstingforcancer. And those who actually answered my plea and reviewed. See, if other people can do it, _you_ there in front of the screen can do it as well.  



	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

It takes us a little over half an hour to reach my family's house from the spaceport in Hanna City. Upon our arrival Xanas tells me I can call him by his real name again. We step out of the cab and I stop for a moment, surveying the area around my childhood home.

A stiff, salty breeze blows in from the nearby ocean, blowing strands of long red hair into my eyes. Irritating as it might look to others, I'll not tie it back. I truly missed having my hair free and unfettered, having kept it bound tightly while on duty.

The house sits above the shore on a small cliff, and there is a flight of stairs from where we stand that leads to the front porch. While ascending, I catch a look or two from Xanas, and I really don't know what to make of them. I look at him again, now pushing the strands of hair out of my face and giving him a reassuring smile. He smiles back, saying: "You must have been a very happy child growing up here. It's nice."

Before I can answer, I hear a familiar voice call: "Jen-Jen!" and squeal of delight. I turn around and see a little girl with flowing black hair wearing a red tunic over black trousers running towards me. In a fit of joy, I let my bag fall down and start running towards her too. We meet halfway, and I scoop her up into my arms.

"Tanita!" The smile she gives me is one of pure delight, and she hugs my neck.

Xanas has caught up to us now, and our eyes meet over Tanita's shoulder. He's got an amused sparkle in his green eyes and silently mouths "Jen-Jen?" towards me.

I just roll my eyes and concentrate on the bundle in my arms again; a bundle that grows increasingly heavy by the second. Smiling, I set the girl down, crouching down to spare her from having to crane her neck to look me in the eyes.

"You've grown into a beautiful young lady, Tanita." I say to her.

She beams, her smile lightening up her whole face. "Did I really grow? Everyone tells me I'm so big now, but I don't really believe them." Excitement clearly audible in her voice, she rattles on, not letting me chime in. "Your hair is so long now. Where were you? Who's that? Why did you go away? I missed you so much!"

Suddenly I can't help it, and I pull her into another hug, holding her tight. "I missed you too, Tanita." I'm a little surprised at my reaction; I actually have to swallow down a few tears, but I'm just so happy to have her back in my arms.

Just when I let go of her and she's about to start her rambling again, I hear another familiar voice call out: "Tanyana Aska Melara, what did I tell you about running away from me?" I stand up. A few feet away, there's a woman, coming towards us. She's sporting the same long black hair as Tanyana, and her features bespeak an obvious blood relation to the smaller girl. Meet my cousin; Bey Andana Melara-Drayson.

She's reached us now, and for a moment, no one says a word. Then, without saying anything, we hug each other, holding each other tightly. In this moment, I realize I've missed far more than just my close family or the seaside air. I've missed Tanita and Bey and Aldric and nearly everyone else from the family; our house employees and even that stupid idiot Joal, my ex-boyfriend. And I wish with a burning intensity that's almost physically painful that my mother would come out of the house and tell me of her latest adventure, and that my father would come behind, telling me he had finally, and without any hard feelings, forgiven me for leaving Chandrila.

But then reality crashes back in on me. They're both gone; at least I haven't lost everyone though. "Thank the Gods you got the message. We almost thought you wouldn't come." Although said in relief, it makes me realize what lies ahead of me now. A week of organizing a funeral, and a ceremony that I hated the first time I had to do it. For a moment the weight of it all seems suffocating, and I almost feel as though I can't breathe or speak. Then Bey smiles at me, and the weight disappears. I'm home.

"I was scheduled for leave anyway. And even if I hadn't been, I'd have figured out a way to get here." She just nods, finally letting go of me and taking a step back.

"You look… older. What in the Gods names have they been doing to you?" Bey's never been one for subtlety. But I'm not offended. She didn't mean it as an insult, because she rarely insults anyone at all. She just said the first thing that came to her mind. As if realizing that she maybe had been a little too direct, she clears her throat and attempts a smile, saying: "But we can talk about that later. Now… who's that handsome young man at your side?" She looks to Xanas, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. If I was here on a less solemn occasion, she'd never let me hear the end of "Who is he, and how are things between you two?"

"Xanas Farrayn III., a… colleague of mine. Xanas, this is Bey Andana Melara-Drayson, my cousin. Oh, and of course Tanyana Aska Melara, her daughter." See, I haven't fully forgotten my nanny's lesson about proper manners.

Xanas gives Bey a brilliant, toothy grin, that smile that women all over the camp are swooning over, and shakes her hand, saying "Pleased to meet you." Then he crouches down before Tanita and takes her hand. When he places a very short peck on it and says "And very pleased to meet you, young lady.", the little girl blushes heavily. Who knew he could be such a _charmer_?

When he's done with worming his way into Bey's and Tanita's hearts, he stands up, and I ask Bey where my sister and my brother are. She's grown all somber now, saying: "In the house. They are… holding vigil. Jen, before you meet them, listen to me: They're still upset with you over what you did, especially Ced. He really took your leaving personally. Just... be careful." Coming from anyone else – maybe even including Danna – I would have brushed off the advice, but Bey has always had a way of driving her point through my thick skull without needing to use much force. I just nod.

We set out for the house again. Upon reaching it, we're greeted by Mo'an, one of my family's oldest servants. "Welcome home, Miss Jenna."

The old man smiles at me, and I want to hug him as well. But they taught me how to behave as an upper-class lady, and so I just smile and thank him, saying: "Thank you. I just wish it would have been for a happier occasion." He nods, as if to say "Us too, Miss Jenna." Then he motions to take Xanas' and my bags, but I decline. He's an old man, and he shouldn't be serving us any more. He should be enjoying his retirement, watching our children grow up if not having any grandchildren of his own. I let out a silent sigh and follow him and Bey into the house.

Inside, all the mirrors and reflective surfaces are covered by black and red cloths. It's an old Chandrilan custom. Black and red are the traditional colors representing death in Chandrilan mythology, and it's said that mirrors function as portals for demons that want to take the soul of the dead with them. This stems from the ancient belief that in a house where someone dead is lying, the veil between our world and the Otherworld is thinner. Interesting that our society is so much forward with its believe in democracy but has such ancient and superstitious traditions, mostly regarding anything that has to do with death.

We reach the atrium in the center of the house, and Mo'an wants to lead us to our respective rooms, but I decline. "No, I need to see Yasha and Ced. Please take Xanas to one of the guest rooms – is the one beside my room with the view of the Sea ready?" Mo'an nods. Of course. He and the other servants and the droids are still keeping the house in top order. "Good. Bring him there." To Xanas, I say: "Could you take my bag to my room? Mo'an will show you were it is. And don't you dare let him take it." Mo'an wants to say something, but I just shoot him a look that tells him not to contradict me, and for a moment, sheer shock is on his face. Huh?

"Sure." Xanas says, and I hand him my bag. Mo'an sketches a short bow and then motions for Xanas to follow him upstairs. I take a deep breath and make my way into the room we usually use for gatherings and dinners and stuff. The door opens, and I step into it. For a moment, I'm stunned at the change the room underwent, but then I get a grip on myself. I've seen it many times before; Just not with a coffin in the middle of it.

The usually bright and friendly interior – a little antique because of all the old family heirlooms – is not to be seen today, as all the mirrors wear black and red drapery, and the windows are clothed as well. The only light comes from numerous candles, placed in an age old pattern to keep the demons away. On either side of the coffin there's sitting a person, one male, one female, both in the traditional prayer position sitting on their heels with their hands flat on the ground and their heads bowed. Who would have thought that my brother and sister of all people would turn to religion after all these years?

"Ch't ah sousa." _Respect to the Dead_. The traditional greeting when entering a place of vigil. I'm a little surprised that I still know how to pronounce it without stumbling over it. After all, my mother died nearly 2 years ago, and I never went to a funeral after that again. Just couldn't take it anymore.

"L'nah ah isou." _Greetings to the Living_. The traditional answer of those who are keeping vigil to the one entering the room. I take another deep breath and step nearer to my brother who stands up. My sister keeps on praying, and again it astonishes me how closely they are following the old customs.

My brother looks at me, and I realize that he grown up some since I've been gone. He's twenty now, and all traces of boyhood are gone from his face; at least in the flickering light of the candles.

"So the prodigal daughter returns home." And he's been introduced to sarcasm. Great. But two can play that game.

"Hello, Ced. I'm happy to see you too. How are you?" I can barely hold back a smirk, and even that only for the sake of my dead father's body lying in the room.

"Your lack of respect really is disgusting." What the hell happened while I was away? My brother never used words like that before. And never looked at me like that before. Like… I was persona non grata. In my parents' house. Just when you think you've already hit rock bottom, it gets even worse.

"Okay… who are you and what have you done to my brother?" For but a moment he loses focus, and the boy I knew is back again. The one who was spoiled rotten because his parents and his big sisters just adored him. The boy who did everything to deserve their adoration. Then his mask slips back on and he's a stranger I barely know.

"The only reason you're here is that we can't do the ritual without you. Everything else is of no concern to you. You made it clear that your regard for our family was minimal when you left on some wild mynock chase. Now deal with it." Look who's been eavesdropping on the last conversation I ever had with my father. I guess it's no use talking that out in here, then.

I have to suppress the urge to sigh loudly, and instead say: "Fine. Now let me alone with him." His eyes grow hard.

"No. You know the rules. Two people in the room praying. Not one less, not one more. So, either you go now, or I leave." Okay. Enough is enough. I won't let my little brother tell me what to do. I'm the oldest one here. They want me for their ritual, they need to respect me.

"No. Both of you leave. Give me half an hour, then you can come back. And when Aldric and Bey take over, we'll talk. No buts. Did I make myself clear?" He turns away, not saying anything. Fine. See if I care. When he's left, my sister suddenly turns from the door and comes to me.

Before I know what's happening, she's hugging me tightly, saying: "I missed you, Jen-Jen. I really, really missed you."

I try to wipe away the tear that suddenly appears on my cheek and say: "Jen-Jen's a kiddy name, Sha-Sha. And we're not kids anymore." Sadness is trying to overwhelm me, and my voice is already breaking.

"I know. But I wish we were. Jenna… you have to… forgive him. He had to grow up faster than any of us. He loves you. He just…" I hug her again. Poor Yasha. She always was the most sensitive among us. Every change and every mishap affected her the most. The past months must have been hell for her. A feeling of almost unbearable guilt threatens to overwhelm me.

"It's okay Yasha. We'll pull through this. And I'll make things right with Ced. Now… give me some time with dad, huh?" She nods, then actually smiles.

"It's good to have you back Jenna, regardless of what Ced says. 'Sides… sometimes he's just a big idiot who needs his big sisters to set him right again." With that she rubs my shoulder and then leaves the room.

A little awkwardly, I turn to the coffin and clear my throat. "So…dad…where were we when our last conversation was interrupted?"

**A/N: **I survived the Regenhölle of Highfield 2006. Therefore: New chapter! Yay! Go me! Anyway, thanks to the beta-reader als allways. And reviews would be nice, too.


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

It's been two hours since my half hour in the vigil room. After that, I felt too drained to do anything else than dragging myself up to my room and crashing on the bed. But sleep has eluded me again. The looks my brother threw me just won't go away, no matter how much my sister tried to reassure me everything would turn out well in the end. And then the time where I was alone in the vigil room. It scared me and it hurt me, but I know I had to do that. I had to have at least a little time alone with him before I am required to go in conclave before the actual funeral.

And then there is the funeral organization. How can I organize everything when I'm supposed to hide away in a room all by myself and prepare myself for the ritual? Gods, this is going to be hell… A knock on the door. I turn to the opposite wall. I'm really not in the mood for any visitors… _Xanas!_

Dammit! I should have taken care of him, see that people get to know him and everything… Another knock. I drag myself off the bed and towards the door. With a wink, I open it. Oh, look who's standing before me. What a coincidence.

"Hey. Uh… can I come in?" I nod, and let Xanas enter my room. He sits down on the bed that I just vacated. Too exhausted to continue standing, I join him on the bed. Rubbing his neck, he says: "So… uh… your cousin told me you were in the room where they keep your father's body?" I nod again. Where's this going, huh? "What… did you do in there?", he asks, and I turn away.

"That's personal. I just don't want to talk about it.", I say, and hope that he's satisfied with that. Of course he isn't.

"Come on, Mel. Tell me. Because you won't tell anyone else, let it eat you up inside. This is about trust, again." Of course. Trust. How could I forget that?

Stupid idiot. What's got trust to do with the fact that I frigging just don't want to talk about the time I passed alone in the vigil room?

"Don't give me that trust-stuff again. Really, this is personal and additionally, I'm just dead tired." He rags his hear and flexes his hand. As if he wanted to do something with it, but thought better of it in the last moment. Then he opens his mouth and closes it again. In that moment he looks just genuinely forlorn. I try to suppress the impulse to sigh and put my forehead against his shoulder. And fail gloriously. "I'm sorry. I… shouldn't have snapped at you like that. It's just…"

He puts an arm around my shoulders, and I feel his lips being pressed against my hair very lightly. Strange that the only thing I feel now is solace. I always thought that maybe I'd pull away or at least feel offended that he took advantage like that. But just for once, I'm happy that he's here, holding me, being my strong shoulder.

"No, I guess, I should be the one apologizing. I just… I shouldn't… have pressed you like that. It's… I just feel a little out of place here." Huh? Xanas the Great admitting to insecurities? Is this some parallel universe or something here? "No one could – or _would_ – tell me what's happening here. And you… you are starting to shut everyone out again. Don't do that. You talked to me after that thing with the blaster backstroke. And even after the crash. I just wish you'd continue talking to me." The helplessness that's shining through in his tone shockingly genuinely tugs at my heartstrings.

"Oh, Xan. It's just… everyone wants something from me, and I don't even know if I can do everything they want me to do. I'm required to go into conclave for the whole day tomorrow, but I have to organize the flowers and the transport to the cemetery and the funeral feast, and everything in the next two days. Because Father has to be buried in two days."

Without actually noticing it, I started crying again, and I hate myself for that. I'm going to be a frigging officer in some weeks for crying out loud. Can't have myself sitting here and crying _again_. Xanas, though, just squeezes my shoulder again and lightly strokes my wet cheek with the other hand.

"Tell me why. Explain to me why there are all those rules and rituals and all the praying." For a moment, I'm silent. Then I decide to take this opportunity to escape my self-pity he just offered me. I sit up again, straightening my back, turning to face him.

"It's not easy, to say the least, even for a native to explain why such democratic people like us Chandrilans can be so… religious. And what all that mumbo-jumbo is about." He smiles, and I'm surprised at how much I actually wanted to see this sight.

"So… this is all about demons in the end.", I continue, but he cocks an eyebrow. Alright, I knew this was going to be difficult. "Yes, demons. Don't look at me like that. In ancient Chandrilan religion there was something called "the Otherworld" or just plain "Hell". It was the place the Gods put their unwanted offspring or those of them who had fallen. Yes, it _was_ their personal junkyard. And it was also said that this "junk" someday found a way to take revenge on the Gods. They saw that the Gods loved the beings on Chandrila. But every time a being died, its soul had to appear before the Gods to be judged by them. And this was the exact moment where the veil between our world and the Otherworld started to grow thinner in the house where the being died."

"Because it might happen that the being is one of the Fallen and has to go to the Otherworld?" Involuntarily, I smile. He listened. He actually listened to me droning on about ancient religious stories. I'm impressed.

"Yes, exactly. So… the demons see that there is a soul that could be either claimed to join their ranks or be tortured forever just for their eternal fun. And that's why the burial ritual has to take place as soon as possible. Or why there are no mirrors in the house at the moment. Mirrors can function as portals to the Otherworld, they said. Or why there's always someone praying in the vigil room. And all that other strange stuff."

He nods. "Okay, I get that. But… _why_? I mean, you just said that Chandrilans were radical democrats, _rational_ – why all the demons-stuff?"

I rack my hair. I knew he'd ask that, and I dreaded that question, because I need to elaborate. And I _hate_ having to be elaborate. "Because… this is about death. Death is not rational. And coping with death can't be done rationally, as well. You can't… like… vote or talk yourself out of death or something. So you do the only other thing left: You turn to religion. Religion makes it easier to accept, gives you strength. It helps to hold people together in times of suffering. Thus: Rational Chandrilans turning into praying jabber-heads when faced with death." Okay, so this was a little harsh, but obviously he got the point.

"So… what did _you_ do in there?" Of course he'd bring up that question again. But instead of answering, I stand up from the bed and walk over to the window. Hugging myself, I stare at the gray sky and the rolling sea.

"I talked to him. I'm not good with praying… never was, actually. And I lost Faith when my mother died. But I'm still superstitious. My nanny ingrained that into my brain from earliest childhood on. So I started talking to my father to keep the demons away." I hear his feet padding over the carpet, and then I feel him standing behind me, only inches away from touching me. I'm actually shocked at feeling an almost physically hurting longing for him to close his arms around me.

"I'm sure he loved you. And I'm sure that in the end, he understood." Forcing myself to take a step nearer to the window and away from him, I shake my head.

"No, he didn't. He… never understood what tradition meant to my mother and her family. See... she wasn't the first Melara to become an exceptional officer. Before her, my grandmother was serving the Old Republic, first on a battle cruiser, then in High Command. And even my great-grandmother did her time in the Chandrilan Navy. Melara women were a kind of… steady number in the Armed Forces, as well as Chandrila as the Republic. My father just didn't believe in family traditions. And when I went to college, after I failed the Chandrilan Navy test and was studying to become a journalist… he saw a chance to break the tradition that in the end cost him his wife."

I hear a suppressed snort behind me. "A journalist? You're kidding, right?"

Earnest indignation makes me turn around and fume at him, with my arms folded before my chest. "I'm _not_ kidding. I was good at it, okay? I even had an offer from one of the big holo-companies to work as an intern after my final year." He tries to hide his face behind his hand, but I see the mischief twinkling in his eyes. What the…

"It's just…you're lacking the killer instinct."

"Said the man who saw me defying Tarkker in the middle of the Tatooine desert for a boy I didn't even know the name of." He grins, holding up his hands.

"Guilty as charged. But… journalism?"

I shrug. "My mum claimed that she wanted me to become a politician. She always said things like "Every decent Chandrilan family has produced at least one mediocre to brilliant politician. Only we are lacking one." and then nudged me. I'm still not entirely sure how much of that was just kidding and how much was serious. But… I guess, she would have been happy to see the family tradition continued. Even with me being a sandcrawler instead of a fleet officer, like generations of Melara women before me."

"Jenna?" I look up again. Serves me right for rambling on and on to be interrupted.

"Yeah?" Something snappy is about to come. I'm sure of it.

"I just learned more about you in about a day than I ever learned in all the months we know each other."

Oh. Okay… "Must have been a disturbing experience, then." I just couldn't help it. I had to say that. It's a kind of reflex, every time a guy is even only near to saying something nice about me.

"Jenna… I was serious. You never before told me so much about yourself, and I liked that. It means you're starting to trust me. I…"

Someone is calling our names from downstairs. I guess it's time for dinner, then. And the "moment" is gone, anyway. But although I know I should be grateful for that, I can't help saying: "Uh… hold that thought for when we have time again. And come on down to dinner. I'm _starving_." Which I not really am – in fact, the thought of food suddenly makes my stomach turn – but I still can pretend, right?

"Yeah, well, me too." He's a terrible liar, sometimes. Now's one of them. "So… let's go then."

I only nod and make my way to the door, Xanas trailing behind.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, who would have thought. Another chapter. At first I want to apologize for not mentioning my last reviewer, **terribletimestwo**, in my last A/N. I'm sorry. I say that, because I value every review, and this one was especially nice :) I hope you stayed with the story even though there were some huge gaps between chapters.

The second thing is that unfortunately, this chapter is unbetaed due to the fact that my beta-reader, joustingforcancer, is on an as of yet infinite break from doing any writing at all (which als means that his stories won't be continued... but maybe gives me time to catch up with "Soldier" :coughs:). Because of this there will now follow a kind of ad-hoc job advertisement (practically the same one you can see in my profile, but not everyone reads that) for a new beta-reader:

**Interim beta-reader needed! **

As of October 24th, my current beta-reader for the "Jenna Chronicles" (yes, there _are_ more to come), joustingforcancer, will not be able to fulfil his part of the agreement anymore. It's very unfortunate, and I do hope that he will resume his position some time in the future. For the time being, though, I'm in need of a new beta-reader. The tasks and requirements are the following:

_Tasks:_

- correction of whatever errors in spelling, punctuation and grammar that may happen  
- looking out for possible lapses in style, characterization and plot  
- having an eye on neglected research  
- discussion of said stuff on either MSN, ICQ or via e-mail

_Requirements:_

- candidate must be fluent in English, preferrably a native speaker (because **I **am not)  
- candidate should be interested in the Star Wars universe and have a profound knowledge of more than just basic facts (or how to research the stuff he/she doesn't know)  
- candidate should have at least basic knowledge about the Armed Forces (preferrably of the sociological/scientific kind as well)  
- candidate preferrably has read joustingforcancer's "Soldier", because the "Jenna Chronicles" are obviously partner stories  
- candidate preferrably is already familiar with the "Jenna Chronicles"

If you feel up to the task, please contact me via ff(dot)net or (even better, because something seems off with the ff-net-e-mail-bot) my e-mail adress (as published in the profile). I would be very happy to have a new beta-reader if only for the time joustingforcancer is incapacitated.


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

Gods, am I grateful that it's over. All that praying and meditating and speaking and organizing… It's been a quarter to an hour now that the actual burial is over, and I was free to allow myself some minutes for being alone. So the first thing I did was coming to my room, crashing on the bed and closing my eyes, the only sound reaching me being the rush from the waves outside.

I really wish it would stay this way but of course it doesn't. A knock on my door. Then: "Jenna, the first visitors arrived." Ah, Yasha. "And… Weizel's about to arrive in some minutes." I scramble up from the bed. Dammit. Gerald Weizel, Imperial governor of Chandrila and arrogant bastard extraordinaire. He even had the balls to appear at my mother's funeral, telling us in a subtle way but in no uncertain terms that he hoped that every tie between the Rebellion and the Melara-family was severed once and for all with her death. I was ready to shoot him in that moment, even back then when I was only 21.

After rearranging my traditional funeral garb – a tight red tunic over a flowing black skirt – I open the door and join my sister. "Any indication my cover could have been blown up?" Yasha shakes her head.

"No. All of them have no reason to suspect anything. Could be difficult to explain that friend of yours, though." I momentarily grid my teeth.

"His name is Xanas, Yasha. Start calling him that." She gives me a weird side glance, as if she's inwardly questioning my sanity, but my patience has been tested enough for the last days.

"Right. Xanas. Could be hard integrating him in your cover." We're almost in the entrance hall, and I really should think of something. Then I get it.

"I'll introduce him as Sav Leecin, architect from Ord Mantell. And my current… involvement. Just tell everyone to play along with it, okay?" She and I both know that there's only one we specifically need to tell to play along. Ced.

"Right." We arrive at the hall, where my brother, Xanas, Bey, Aldric, Mo'an and Ilisa – our head house maid – are already waiting.

Just before the doorbell chimes, I manage to get to Xan and brush his ear, whispering: "Cover time again." I swear, just for a moment I saw him blush. Good to know that even he can be intimidated with something as simple as whispering.

The bell chimes, and Mo'an opens the door, slightly bowing to the man standing before him. A guy in his fifties, with the aloof air of an upper-class gentleman around him, and in a silver-haired kind of way good looking. Ladies and gentlebeings, the governor has arrived.

The same as two years ago, he ignores Mo'an and steps into the house, ignoring all Chandrilan customs regarding entering a funeral house, behind him trailing an elegant middle-aged woman. Osura Weizel, his wife. He steers straight towards me, extending his hand.

I really have to force myself to take it and look him into the eye. "My condolences, Miss Melara. Your father was an excellent man. A fair business-man and an exceptional citizen." Smug, lying bastard. You hated him as much as you hated my mother, only that you needed his connections to get your Alderaanian wine and your monthly dose of glitterstim.

"Yes, he was. Thank you for your condolences, sir. It's an honor to welcome you in our humble domicile." And you, Jenna Melara, are a bigot liar and hypocrite. "Humble domicile"? Don't make them laugh.

"And it's an honor to be greeted here by you. You surely must have loved your father in an exceptional way if you come the long way from Mrlsst to Chandrila just for his funeral." Just another example of how disinterested Weizel is in the planet he's supposed to be governing. In all his years of his regime, he should have found time for at least a rough overview of Chandrilan customs and traditions.

"In fact, sir, it was greatly required that I return. In Chandrilan tradition, it's always the oldest daughter who has to conduct the funeral rituals when a member of her close family dies." We already told you that two years ago. And I'm sure you got told by the members of a lot of other families you visited to come and gloat over the death of their loved ones in the service of the Alliance. Aldric's uncle – Hiram Drayson, a fellow officer of my mother's and a planet hero in his own right – for example. I was there. I still remember it.

"Oh yes, you're right, I remember it. My deepest apologies of forgetting it. But… how are your studies going, Miss Melara?" Making conversation already in the entrance hall and keeping me from welcoming all the other visitors that are slowly filing in? Not a nice move, Mr. Governor.

"They are… going well. I'm working in a post-graduate program, analyzing and comparing Republic communicational structures to Imperial ways of information." The funny thing is: If I hadn't joined the Rebellion, this would be exactly what I'd be doing now. There even is still a file with my name existing in the student archives at Mrlsst Academy.

"And I'm sure, you'll be coming to the conclusion that with the Rise of the New Order, there also was an improvement of information distribution to the citizens in the galaxy." And _I_'m sure that I really, really want to strangle you with my hands and torture you to death for all the things you and your Empire did to my mother, my planet, my _galaxy_. I really, really want to make you suffer for Alderaan and Ghorman and Tatooine and all those other planets.

"My research indicates that I can agree with you, sir." Oh, and I want to strangle myself for being such a devote and spineless creature.

"Say, who is this nice young man at your side, Miss Melara?", the governor's wife chimes in and bats her lashes and Xanas. Forget it, you old hawk-bat, he's so totally out of your league.

Uh, did I just think that?

"Sav Leecin, architect. Pleasure to meet you, madam." He takes her hand and kisses it. Needless to say that I hate the sight of it. Of course only because she's as much an Imperial with every inch of her effete upper-class body as her husband. "And an honor to meet you, sir." He shakes hands with Weizel, as if he hasn't done anything else in his entire life. I wonder how far I'm away from the actual truth with that assumption.

"Sav is my… current companion. He came here as to support me during this hard time." Madam Weizel smiles one of those benevolent smiles middle-aged people all over the galaxy have on their faces when seeing a young couple. You can almost hear the "Awwwwwww!", that goes through their heads. I hate it.

As an emphasize Xanas puts his arm around my waist and draws me towards him. Now _that_… I _should_ be hating as well. But it just feels actually comforting for real. I really, really should stop thinking thoughts like this.

"Say, Mr. Leecin… I think, I remember your face from somewhere." I feel his arm stiffen. Oh Gods. Something in Weizel's sentence alarmed him, and that's not good.

"Are you maybe from Ord Mantell, sir?" He's still all upper-class nonchalance, but his fingers on my hip are growing tight. As if he needs me to support him. We _definitely_ need to talk about his past.

"No, from Eiattu VI… I could have sworn to have seen someone wearing your face at one of the nobility gatherings at the court." That's what you get for taking an Eiattu nobility misfit with you to a planet that's governed by another Eiattu nobility off-spring: A big mess that'll probably ruin your whole family's lives. Yay.

"Well, then it must have been stolen." Oh wow. He even manages to wink at Madame Weizel. What do Eiattu noble families teach their children in their diplomacy classes? "I for once can't say that I ever visited the Eiattu system, and particularly Eiattu VI." For a moment, Weizel is studying Xan's face again, and I can feel the tension in his body rise. Because I fear he is going to do something stupid, I cover his hand on my hips unobtrusively as not to draw any attention. Squeezing it lightly, I try to calm him down.

"Yes, maybe I was just confusing you with one of those young nobles at the court that all seem to look the same. But we have kept you long enough, Miss Melara, perhaps if your… companion can accompany us to the dining room…" I'm sorry, Xan. So, so sorry. I wish I could do anything against this, but you've got to get through this all on your own. He won't let you off the hook the whole evening, and there's nothing I can do against it. So I do the only thing I know of.

"Of course, sir.", Xanas says, and Weizel and his wife turn to go.

When they show us their backs, I turn around in his arm and stand up on my toes to whisper to him: "I'm sorry, I have to put you through that, Xanas. I'll make it up someday, I promise." And following an impulse I give him a short peck on the cheek.

Surprisingly, he leans down to me and whispers back: "Don't worry. I'll be fine. But I'd still love to see you making up." And then he gives me another, albeit short kiss full on the lips. Leaving me behind fuming, he turns to Madam Weizel and offers her his arm. Stupid, _stupid_ bastard. Just wait till we get back to the regiment, and I'm your superior. Just. You. Wait.

"Miss Jenna? The food is ready, and the table is set. Could you please come and open the feast?", Ilisa politely as ever asks, and reminds me of my duties as a hostess again. How I just hate it all. If I wasn't only 23, I'd say, I'm getting too old for this.

* * *

It's five hours later when even the last guests finally left the house, and the bustling of the servants and droids has finally stopped and I finally allow myself five minutes to sit down in the now deserted dinner room, close my eyes and take off my shoes and put my feet up on a chair. For everyone else, the day is mostly done, but not for me. There are appointments to make with our family's lawyer, there are thank-you letters to write to the people who attended to the burial and/or the feast or who wrote condolence letters, there are business matters that need to be taken care off… 

"Say, Jenna… where was all your rebellious bravado when that idiot Weizel violated our traditions? Or when his wife flirted shamelessly with that lover boy of yours?" I open my eyes again. Of course, Ced. It was only a matter of time until he would start taunting me again, really.

"Locked up and away so I don't compromise this family and ruin everything that makes it possible for you to live a life of privilege." Dad is now officially buried, and technically I'm the head of this household now. It's time I act like it.

"How noble of you. So it doesn't matter to you that lover boy very thoroughly enjoyed his time with Weizel's wife at his side?" Again I wonder whereto the boy I knew and loved disappeared. The Ced I used to know was good-natured, sometimes a little brash, but always friendly and mostly only teasing.

"First of all: His name is Xanas. Start calling him that. And second: He's _not _my lover. We serve together in the same unit, that's all. And godsdammit, stop behaving like a spoiled brat." In his eyes, I see a dangerous fire burning. It's a fire being fueled by countless hours of brooding over an assumed unfair fate. Great.

"No. _You_ stop behaving like you own everything here. Because you own _nothing_. And you don't _deserve_ anything here, as well." He's hurt, I can see that. But I wish he would stop acting like I was the frigging Emperor. That would make a lot of things a lot easier.

"This is not about owning anything, right? This is about you being hurt by me leaving. Why can't you just say that?" For a moment, everything is silent. Then, a frigging storm breaks loose.

"I'm _not_ hurt! I'm fucking going ballistic! You leave for that glorious Rebellion of yours, never considering how dad may take it. You broke his fucking heart! He died because of _you_!" With that he grabs one of the antique Alderaanian vases one of my great-grandmothers collected and throws it right at the wall behind me. Stupid spoiled brat with no regard to the value of things. We really should have been more careful in his education.

I jump from my seat, my skirt momentarily hindering me to do it with a certain amount of dignity. "That's enough. I'll not let _you_ give me a frigging guilt complex. Dad died in a speeder crash, not from a weak heart. This is ridiculous. I don't need to hear that." I can't take it anymore. For three days, I tried to be forgiving, even indulging with him. I told myself time and again that he just didn't have time to grow up properly, that his adolescence had been a troubled one. But my patience has its limits, and this is one of them. So I do the only thing that always worked for me in conflicts: I run away. But not before calling out: "Don't you dare let a servant or a droid clean up your mess. You do that on your own. And you'll pay for that vase."

Upon leaving the room, I almost stumble over Xanas who in turns utters a "Jenna?"

The only answer I have is "Not now.", and then I'm already on my way to my favorite hiding place when I was a child.

* * *

**A/N: **We-ell... another chapter. No, I didn't write so fast, I already have the whole story written down ;) The past delays were mostly caused by my beta-reader (who chose to abandon me and... no, okay, that's unfair), and because I don't have one at the moment I can get out the chapters in shorter intervalls. But I'm still looking for one. Really. 

Apart from that I now want to thank all those people who chose to take this story into their favorites or added me to their favorite authors or added this story or myself to their respective alerts. I really appreciate that, even if I haven't said so yet. Thank you very, very much.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

"You know, you're very likely to catch a cold when you're continuing to sit there and stare into nothingness."

Him again. To be honest, I expected my sister to be the one going in search of me and finally finding me here. Back in the days, Yasha always was the only one who knew where I hid when my parents had been fighting or when there was a conflict between me and someone else. But yeah, given the last few days… it figures. Yasha's probably busy with calming down Ced, and Bey has her hands full with Tanita. The little girl took the funeral and everything around it pretty hard, and that hurt me as well. Tanita was always a bit of daughter for me, as well.

Xan has reached me now, and sits down beside me, letting his feet dangle over the edge of the cliff I'm sitting on. Just for once, he says nothing, just joins me in gazing at the dark Silver Sea. The wind is blowing only mildly this time, ruffling my skirt a little, and then and again carrying a lazy strand of hair into my face. I've my knees drawn up to my chest, with my arms around them and my chin on them.

My brother's words just won't leave my head, and that makes me all kinds of agitated. I told him, I'd not let myself being pushed on a guilt trip by him, but the truth is: I was already there, even at the time when I left my parents' house to join the Alliance, when my father was still alive and fuming at me for doing it. And then hearing that my father died… it made everything even harder. From the first time I heard about it, I had the sentence "It's all your fault." hammered into my head, just like some kind of mantra or something, even when Bey told me that it was indeed a speeder accident, not grief or bitterness.

And then, when I came here and saw Ced's face turn into a mask of hate and bitterness when I saw him again and seeing Yasha's grief-stricken face, the guilt doubled. My "everybody's darling" brother and my serene sister being turned into… _that_… it almost threw me over the edge. Exactly where I'm standing again. Figuratively spoken now.

"Your sister actually almost bit of your brother's head when she saw the pieces of the vase." Is he trying to make conversation? Or making the whole thing seem light? What?

"She should have. He doesn't deserve any better." Oh wow. That came out even more bitter than I intended it to.

"Don't you think you're a bit hard…"

"No, I'm not. I should have been hard on him a lot earlier, then a lot of things wouldn't have happened. I should have been a mother to him, not an indulging sister." I know you normally let people end their sentences and stuff. I'm just a little to agitated just now to be polite.

"Jenna, I'm sure you did everything you could and…"

"Listen, if you just came out here to give me that… umph." A big hand just landed on my mouth. And green eyes bore into mine. Uh-oh.

"Don't look at me like this. I'm only doing this so you don't say things you might regret a lot later. You promise not to spit out venom again?" I guess my face speaks volumes. "I'd recommend you to, because otherwise I might be forced to go to extreme measures." Okay. We both know _exactly_ what he means. But it's still funny somehow. I can't remember any other guy to have threatened me with kissing me before, actually. And it's even funnier that it works. I nod, and the hand is taken away.

Silence reigns again, and the sun has started to set some moments ago. The sky has started to color in all possible shades of red, pink and purple, and the sea is mirroring the colors. A sudden and strange bout of nostalgia – that I'm instantly embarrassed of – engulfs me. The last evening I passed at my parents' house before joining the basic training camp was exactly like this. A heavy fight with a family member – my father at that time – a flight from the house, a sunset on the cliff. And after that leaving the house at the crack of dawn; sneaking out like a thief and never looking back. _Gods_, how I wish I could make it all undone. Not the joining the Alliance thing, but the way I left home.

A gust of wind hits me, and I shiver. Before I know it, Xanas has moved behind me, putting his jacket around my shoulders and encircling them with his arms. My body tenses at his touch, and he seems to have noticed it. "If you don't want it, say something. But I just had the feeling you could need a little support now." You just gotta love a direct guy. Even more when he's technically right.

Forcing myself to relax into his embrace, I close my eyes and say: "No, it's okay. Let's just hope there's no one else around. I'd never hear the end of the whole "You and him are an item and you never told us???"-story." I feel him readjusting his position a little, and then I feel his chin setting down lightly on the top of my head. Funny. A few days ago I'd have slapped him into next week for a stunt like this. Now… I'm just happy that there's someone here who's not accusing me of anything or expecting me to take over a business I have absolutely no clue about or just wanting something from me. Someone who's just… _there_. Dear Gods in Heaven, I just hope he isn't expecting to get… "anything back" or something from me.

I close my eyes again. No. Resolutely pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind, I try to concentrate on the moment. I can rack my brains enough about the way he's behaving towards me later, still. And if I'm clever enough I can turn everything so that I don't even have to do _anything_ about it at all. But just not now.

There's still something I'd love to know, and this is maybe the only chance I have to ask.

"Xan?"

"Mh?" The slight vibration that's caused by that short sound makes me shiver in a totally different way than before.

"I'd like to know something…" He shifts a little, and I'm now positioned a little more to the side so that I can see a part of his profile.

"Well, ask away."

"Um…" I notice I've been fiddling with his fingers and force myself to stop. No need to let him know how insecure I'm about this whole thing. "Promise me not to freak out first."

A low laugh rumbles through his body. Oh. My. Frigging. Gods. "Fine. I promise. Now ask."

I shift a little, and I'm sure he knows as good as I that I'm only trying to buy time. "Well… uh… why the whole secret identity stuff and everything? You said you'd explain to me. Now's as good as any time." Okay. I'm starting to babble. Shutting up now.

For a while, it's silent again. The sun has already touched the sea, and stars start to shine through the clouds. For a moment, I'm idly wondering which of them is Tatooine, but then I remember my pledge to enjoy the moment and not think about what could or would happen or had happened outside of this bubble of peacefulness Xanas and I are in.

"You remember where I'm from, right? And who my parents are?" Ah, so he's found his voice again.

"Yeah, well, that much what you told me." His hold tightens a little, and I'm heavily suspecting it to be my equivalent of fiddling with his fingers.

"Right. What I didn't tell you was… how I left my home planet." Oh. Seems that I'm not the only one Chandrila pushed to confessions. "You know, I just couldn't go to my parents, say "Hey guys, I'm signing off my med science studies to join the Rebellion. Have fun, I love you, too." and leave for basic training." So I was right in my assumption. Med science. Who maybe apart from me would have thought he was on his way to become a demi-god in scrubs before becoming a sand crawler?

"Med science, huh? Why not join MedCorps, then?"

He ruffles my hair affectionately, saying: "Patience, young _padawan_. We'll come to that later." I only stick out my tongue. Young _padawan_, my ass.

"I'll be quiet if you stop fooling around with my hair." He leans his head down to me, but suddenly stops as if he wanted to do something and thought better of it in the last moment.

"Fair enough.", he says, but doesn't stop fiddling around with a strand of my hair. Typical. "So… I was young, I was idealistic, and I was giving my parents a bigger headache each day. They were Eiattu nobility, all in for family tradition, the whole stuff. I was the oldest, so I enjoyed the position of the family estate and business heir. I hated it with every fiber of my heart." Strangely enough, I can fully relate. Even if my parents never wanted to press me into something I wasn't – not even when my father convinced me to study journalism because I _did_ have talent for that and enjoyed it – I now have to cope with the impact of how it is to suddenly be head of a family.

"When did you decide to leave?" He shifts again, drawing me nearer to his chest and closing his legs around me. Did I miss something? Since when did we start to sit around on cliffs entangled like this and talking and doing… twosome stuff? And since when am I enjoying this? I hate to say it but… this planet is toxic. It has to be. That's the only sensible explanation.

"When the Empire openly seized power and my parents cheered them on like everyone else. Some years ago they killed and deported our royal family and then had some puppet ruler. Then, three years ago, that man was taken off the throne, and they installed a Moff in the system. I was a first year at the University of Coruscant, and home for semester break when it happened. On Coruscant I'd met some people who thought differently and who were able to smuggle information past official channels. I already knew more about the Empire than I ever wanted to, and seeing how almost the entire nobility of my planet – people I played with as a child or went to school with or who were good friends of the family – welcomed them with open arms, it made me want to leave again and never come back."

I try to imagine what I would have felt like if Chandrila had been like this – the Empire marching in and everyone cheering them on. I simply can't. It already broke my heart when I saw all those officers with Imperial insignia at the spaceport and just… _everywhere_. Seeking refuge in the embrace, I close my eyes and lean my cheek against Xan's chest.

"So?"

"So I did. Through the people on Coruscant I had contacts on Eiattu as well, and I activated them. I knew I wanted to leave for ever, so I had to be thorough. One of my cousins joined COMPNOR, and worked for the Imperial Security Bureau, so I knew my family had the means to track me down if I decided to simply disappear. And I also knew that they would use them." I think I'm getting to it, now.

"You had to die, then?" A low laugh rumbles through his body and causes me strange shivers. DAMMIT!

"Exactly. My contacts helped me to engineer a space ship accident in which the ship I was supposed to be on collided with another and exploded, leaving behind no debris that could be examined. When that happened, I was already on another ship, under another name and on my way off Eiattu. Since then I tried my luck at several Alliance units." Several units? That guy's unbelievable. Just when you think you have him figured out, he blows everything up again.

"Uh… how did you end up as an infantry grunt, then?"

"My last job before that was medic on a freighter. On one of our stopovers I got the message that I had raised some suspicion and that my family was still searching for me. I decided to make a radical break, had myself killed – again – and went in search of the nearest infantry basic camp. And then ended up on Tatooine." Finally things become clear to me. About damn time. It started to get cold here, even bundled up in his jacket and cuddled against his body.

"You decided against MedCorps because that's where they would look soonest, right? And that fake-name idea was to fool anyone who might be following your moves through the Imperial data bases. The only name that would appear is Sav Leecin, and that guy has no connection to you, right?", I say, half turning to him and raising my eyebrows with the question.

"Absolutely. Your promotion really is well-earned." I would have slapped him on the arm for that comment if it wasn't for the fact that he whispered again and managed to momentarily paralyze me. _Again_. That really needs to stop. Clearing my throat a little, I manage to fully turn around and throw him on his back. Taking advantage of his surprise, I manage to straddle him and pin him to the ground.

Leaning down, I place my mouth directly at his ear and whisper: "That's what you get for making fun of me, mister." Faster than I can react, he has grabbed me by my hips and rolls me around, instantly starting to tickle me again. Squealing and screeching, I try to wiggle my way out of his grasp, but fail gloriously.

This time he's not stopped by falling off a cot, and so the only thing I can do is pleading for his mercy, because I'm seriously out of breath here. When he finally stops, we're both breathing heavily, and he's having me pinned down to the ground for some seconds before he attempts to speak. Then he grins and says: "I knew I'd get you to yield. I'll just save this as further blackmail material for when you made Colonel, and I'm still a sand crawler."

I stick out my tongue. "Whoever said I wasn't just giving up to humor your male vanity, huh?"

He grins. "I'm not vain. I _know_ that I'm the best thing that ever happened to you." And suddenly he leans down, coming closer… and I feel panic rising up. I mean, what the hell are we doing here? In the middle of a frigging civil war, on my Imperial occupied home planet, just hours after my father's burial… and about to kiss each other madly and then… what? No way. Not here. Not like this. I just can't.

Just before his lips meet mine, I turn away and manage to roll away from under him. In his confusion, he shifts aside easily, looking at me like a kicked gizka. Argh. It's breaking my heart, but I just can't. I'm still wearing traditional mourning garments, and what's even more important: In roughly five weeks, he'll have to call me Ma'am, and I'll maybe someday have to order him to his death and people will talk and… I clear my throat.

"We better get back. It's late, and they will start to wonder where we are. We shouldn't cause Yasha more grief than she already has to deal with, huh?" With that I stand up, carefully avoiding to look into his face again, dusting off my skirt. Behind me, I hear him slowly getting to his feet again.

After what seems an eternity, he steps beside me, saying: "Yeah. Sure. Let's go." Dear Gods, I just hope I didn't break his heart as much as it sounded like.

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**A/N: **You know, for some reason I really like this chapters. Maybe even like it best in the whole story. But I'd indeed really like to get an opion on it, mostly _because _I really like it. So? 


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

I hate it. I just frigging hate it. It's been four days since the incident on the cliffs, and I think I'm slowly going insane. For one, there's Ced. Ever since that fight we had in the dinner room, he's either avoiding me like the Plague or – if it's not possible to get around seeing me – always reminding me of what he thinks about me. Which has even worsened since that fight.

Then there's Yasha. She's always been a little frail, a little more sensitive than the rest of us, but ever since I first came here her whole constitution has been deteriorating rapidly. She looks worse than any of us – myself included – and although she tries to hide it I know that she's either crying herself to sleep or not getting any sleep at all. She's studying music at the local college, and she's very talented with the vioflute, and always very eager to practice. But ever since I came here, I never heard or saw her playing it. Something's seriously wrong if Yasha is neglecting her music like that. I just wish I knew what and how to make it right again.

And of course, there's still Xanas. Ever since that talk on the cliff… he's been _different_. More distanced, but not in an unfriendly way. Just keeping as much corporeal distance between us as possible. I know I should be happy that he got the hint so fast, but I just… I miss it. _Gods_, I must be the girliest girl in the whole universe. First I slam the door right in his face, and now I resent him for rightfully staying away?

Groaning, I scamper out of my bed. I'm not going to get any sleep anyway, so no point in keeping on tossing and turning around. Wrapping a blanket around my shoulders, I enter the balcony. It's gotten colder, and you can feel the summer fading now. I close my eyes. The gentle sound of the waves rolling against the shore is the only thing I hear, and it's slowly starting to calm me down.

Until I hear something completely different. Sheets rustling. A person moaning. Huh? I strain to hear better, and there it's again. What is it with me and hearing moaning people? There, again. Seems to come from somewhere beside me… Xanas's room, obviously.

Yes, I know this is not my business. Yes, I know I shouldn't enter other people's rooms, most of all not when they are sleeping. But I still do, in this case. Straining not to make a sound, I step into the room. The moonlight from outside shines on the bed, partially lighting it. As I already heard, he's tossing and turning and very obviously not dreaming well. Slowly I walk up to the bed and stand before it, a little lost. Okay, one-million-credits-question: Wake him or let him sleep?

He turns around, making me almost jump because for a moment it looked like he's awake. I know it would be best if I just leave, but I can't. Against better judgment, I sit down and curl up in one of the chairs at the window which are facing the bed.

It occurs to me I never saw him sleep before. Whenever I wasn't sleeping in camp, I either stayed on my cot or – if I got lucky and the tent watch was asleep as well – walked out of the tent to stare at the sky. On the ship, I fell asleep before him. And here it were separated rooms. They say that if you wanted to see a person when they were most vulnerable you should watch them sleep.

Which is probably right in his case. I always experienced him as a guy who knew an answer to everything, always stayed calm – okay, apart from those weird bouts of misplaced chivalry he gets time and again – and was able to give support. A strong guy, even if he sometimes thinks he's got to prove something to us. And now he's lying here, having nightmares just like me – no, make that worse, from the sound and look of it – and I don't know what to do.

It's tempting to wake him up, hold him like he held me, thereby end his torments – more than one, actually – but it would mean I don't stick to my word, my principles. I guess I would somehow hurt him again.

He makes a particularly hard turn, jerking me from my reverie. Biting my lip I think back at how he woke me on the ship and held me without wanting anything in return. That actually was one of the few times in the last months I had a few hours of solid and uninterrupted sleep. I guess I owe him for that. As well. Dammit.

Suddenly I hear him cry out and see him jerking up, opening his eyes and staring around wildly. Okay, that answered the one-million-credit-question. No way I can get out of this room unnoticed now. Standing up I move over to his bed, tentatively sitting down at the edge. He's obviously still half asleep, because he jerks into my direction, making a defensive move. I catch his sloppily aimed fist and gently put it down on the bed.

"It's me, Xanas. Only me."

He blinks. "Jenna?"

"Yeah, just me. Your ordinary screw-up soldier." I attempt a half-grin.

"What are you doing in here?" Okay, I should have known he'd ask that. After all, he _is_ a bright guy.

"I… uh… just came by your room… and uh… heard something…" That didn't sound convincing even to myself. I just hope, he's still too sleepy to fully understand it.

"You… heard me?" Mh. Maybe not so sleepy at all.

"Yeah. I just came in to check on you. And then you were suddenly awake. Everything alright?" I just _bet_ he'll now do the same I did. Deny anything bad happened.

"It's… nothing. Really." See?

"Oh come on. Weren't you the one talking about trust to me? That didn't look like nothing to me." He runs his hands over his face and through his hair. Making himself look irresistible. Do men know that sleep-tousled hair and bedroom eyes mostly serve to up-grade their sexyness?

"Using my own knife to stab me in the back, huh?" A sloppy grin appears. I instantly want to jump at him and kiss him senseless. Which demon rode me when I decided to get in here in the middle of the night and_frigging_ _watch him sleep_? And which demon rode me when I decided against whatever we could have had? Whoever said this had to be of the serious variety here? After all, all he could be looking for was someone to relieve some tension. Get some action beside the battlefield. Some R&R of the horizontal variety. Godsdammit, what am I thinking here?

"That was a very nasty way to put it, Private. Just practicing what you taught me. Now… what was it?" He falls back on the bed, sighing a little.

"You're a major pain in the neck, Lieutenant-to-be. But a cute one, so I'll tell you." A _cute_ one? What the fuck? I feel a tug at my pajamas shirt. "Hey, you still interested or what?"

Oh, he wants me to lie down with him. Great. But I maneuvered myself into this, now I have to go through with it. Suppressing a sigh, I lie down beside him, carefully maintaining a minimum of distance. "Sure. Tell me."

He adjusts his position a little, and now we're lying side by side, with his right arm directly over my head. Whatever happened to "keeping a corporeal distance", mister? "It's… about the same things you see. Things from the war, the fights. People dying. Blood. Screams. The usual." He stops, but in his whole kind of stopping you can feel that it's not all. That there's still something else. Something he doesn't want to tell right away.

Carefully, I get a little closer. I turn my head to his and can see his profile. His eyes are closed, but I can tell that he's not asleep but trying to decide whether he should tell me more or not. "There's more to it, right?"

His left hand moves to his face and he rubs his eyes. After what seems an eternity, he says: "Yes. It's something… recurring. I'm… _we_ are sitting in that box again. The whole gang, with those idiots trying to verbally knock the stuffing out of you. Right up to the point where the engine explodes. And then…" Whatever comes next, it's totally throwing him off-balance, even if he tries not to let it show. The arm over my head moves nervously, and he needs several attempts at continuing.

Not being able to see him suffer like that, I reach up and take his hand, drawing the arm under my head and gently squeezing the nervously moving hand. Very softly, I ask: "What then?"

Disentangling his hand from mine and then grabbing it himself, he answers: "I'm not fast enough to push you out. I see you getting killed right in front of me. Very plastic. Like it happened just like this. Completely with screaming and smelling the burning skin and everything. And just when it's my turn to die I always wake up. And I'm always terrified. Not at myself dying, but because… of you. Now, isn't that strange? Xanas the pussy not being afraid of his own death." A laugh escaped his throat, but it's without humor and full of bitterness.

For a while, neither of us says anything. That's a heavy blow. I've got to be honest. I always thought he'd be looking for some adventure with me. A little fun. Someone to flirt with or fool around. A friend of some sorts. And maybe some… horizontal action. But that sounds a lot like… he has deep feelings, maybe more than friendship. I suddenly remember when I asked my ex about what he was most afraid of, and that he answered almost in an instant: "Losing the brand new speeder I just bought." Obviously, there's at least one good reason we're not a couple anymore.

But now having someone admitting that what they are most afraid of is losing you… I don't really know if I can take it after all those blows from the last weeks. So it's no wonder I answer a little lamely: "You're not a pussy, Xan. You should know that." Way to go, Melara. Just make this even more embarrassing for the poor guy, why don't you?

"That's not what the people at the camp say, Lieutenant-to-be Cutie." He's trying to cover up his embarrassment and disappointment by teasing me. And failing gloriously. But I decide to play along. After all, we're just one couple of dysfunctional screw-ups, aren't we?

"And you listen to them? Maybe you _are_ a pussy then." For a moment, I think he's going to tickle me again, but he settles with drawing me towards him a little roughly and ruffling my hair.

"Say that again, and I'll give your brother the beating-up of his life the next time he so much as opens his mouth in your vicinity." Oh. Misplaced chivalry. That's something I can deal with. Great.

"You won't dare to anyway. Pussy. Pussypussypussy." He laughs, this time a surprisingly genuine laugh. The tension has eased, and we're just two friends again. Talking about this and that and nothing in particular, until both of us drift off to sleep eventually.

It's at the crack of dawn when I wake up. Lying on my right side, I feel an arm draped loosely over my hips and the presence of a body behind me. Seems that somehow somewhere we managed to turn around so that we ended up like we were a couple being totally used to sleeping together. Heaving a silent sigh, I gently pick up his arm and very, very carefully get out of bed. I'm sorry that I'll be gone when you wake up, but there are a lot of things that still need to be taken care of. With one last glance at his peacefully sleeping form I make my way out of the room.

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**A/N: **Errr... yes.Apparently I did _not _abandon this story (in fact there's already the next Jenna-story done). So... give me some reviews? 


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

It's the last one and a half hour I'll maybe ever spend at my parents' house, and I'm ashamed to say that I'm actually glad for it. It's been two days since the night in Xanas' bed, and basically nothing improved since that. Or well, maybe apart from my relationship with Xanas. He's relaxed around me again, teasing me, talking to me, touching me again. I don't know what exactly caused this but obviously it's got something to do with that night.

For a last time I go through all the things lying on my bed that I plan to take with me, and as usual, I have the feeling that something important is missing, and that I'll only know what it is when I'm several thousand klicks away from Chandrila. But for now it looks as if it's everything, so I pack it all up. When I'm done, I go over to Xanas' room, to check if he's done as well. I knock, but no one answers. I knock again.

And then I get one of the shocks of my life when suddenly a voice behind me says: "Sorry to say that you only made second place, Lieutenant-to-be Melara. You need to do better than this at OCS, or you'll never make it to your Lieutenant's bars." I turn around, and he's standing there, leaning against the wall and grinning an incredibly smug grin. Friendship yes or no, there are moments where I just want to wipe those grins from his face. But at least he stayed away from the "Cutie" this time. He's obviously able to learn, if only through repeated whacks on the head. Saying nothing, I stick out my tongue and brush past him to go downstairs and meet with the assembled family and staff for a last time.

He comes after me, no doubt still with the grin on his face. Downstairs, I see Yasha, Bey and Tanita. Aldric obviously has another "business meetings" – which means he's either at the basic camp or recruiting new people – and Ced is nowhere to be seen as well. Not that I expected his attendance, but I have to admit that secretly I wished he'd see me off like everyone else because it would have meant that he'd somehow forgiven me. The last people waiting for me are Mo'an and Ilisa with a number of our household droids.

I give Yasha a very long hug, telling her in a very soft voice to start playing the vioflute again as soon as she can, and she gives me a half-hearted approval. I just wish that there's someone else than me who can make her start practicing again. Yasha, on the other hand, tells me not to get myself killed. All I can do is promise her and hope I'll not disappoint her.

Then it's Bey's turn to get hugged and tell me almost the same, while I tell her to have an eye on Aldric that he doesn't get himself into any trouble. Tanita is inconsolable at first and doesn't even want to hug me, but after some patient nudging from me she finally consents and hugs me as if there's no tomorrow. _Gods_, how am I gonna survive leaving her and everyone else again?

Just when I'm about to say my good-byes to Mo'an and Ilisa, the door from the living room opens, and an obviously drunken Ced stumbles in. Well, I wanted his attendance, now I have it. Almost unconsciously, I straighten myself up and look him in the face. Trying to keep dignity and decorum, I say: "I'm happy you could make it to my farewell after all." You can almost feel the air in the room get charged with tension all of a sudden.

"You… sssstupid… bitch. You really… think… I'm here to… ssssay good-buy like all those sssstupid idiots over there?", he prattles on and points an unsteady finger in the general direction of the people behind me.

Not daring to take my eyes off him, I answer: "Well, if you aren't here for farewell, what are you here for then?"

He giggles to himself, as if I just made a killer joke only he understands. "Jusss makin' sssure you're actually… leaving for good. 'Cause we don' need you here. An we don' want you here, you… Army whore." Faster than any of us can react, Xanas jumps past me and rams his fist straight into Ced's face. With a sickening crack something breaks – most likely Ced's nose – and as if in slow motions both men are going down and then hitting the floor with a dull thump. Unable to move, I see Ced struggling in vain against the very sober and very well trained Xanas who obviously isn't done with just breaking my brother's nose.

After some more seconds of absolute paralysis, Mo'an and I finally manage to get a hand on Xanas and draw him away from a now bloodied and bruised Ced. "You ain't calling your sister a whore ever again, you scuzzy little filth of a man.", Xanas swears at him through clenched teeth, and for a moment I idly wonder whatever happened to his sophisticated aristocratic way of speaking. But maybe he learned one or two things from serving in a whole lot of different units. Or hanging out with Korwin's recon gang in the brig.

When he's not lunging at Ced anymore, I let Mo'an and Bey handle him and crouch down beside Ced to see how bad it actually is. But instead of letting me assess the damage, my brother struggles to sit up and violently shoves me away. "Dontcha dare touching me, you piece of canon fodder. Get your fucking hands off me." Now completely deranged, I only marginally register Tanita crying into Ilisa's skirts and Yasha's shaking hand on my shoulder. I feel like standing beside me, seeing me and anyone else from a position outside.

"Miss Jenna? Miss Jenna, you need to get your speeder to the space port. We're going to get everything right here without you. But you need to hurry now." I blink. It's Mo'an, who's standing right in front of me and gently nudging me in the direction of the front door. Beside me, a very disgruntled Xanas is getting ready to leave as well. Suits him right. He'll get his earful before we have to part.

I follow Mo'an as he walks outside, but when we get to the stairs that lead down to the road, I can see that no speeder cab has arrived yet. Silently I thank Mo'an's circumspection of maneuvering me and Xanas out of the house. Aloud I say: "We still have plenty of time, Mo'an. But you're right. You can never be too early."

He smiles one of his strange cryptic smiles and says: "Both you and I know that I didn't get you out because of the speeder, Miss Jenna. There are things happening inside that are not of your concern anymore."

I raise an eyebrow. "Not of my concern?"

He nods. And gives me that strange look again he gave me when I told him to get Xanas up to his room shortly after our arrival at the house. "Yes. And if I may say that… you are more like your mother with every day."

I raise the other eyebrow as well. "Mo'an…"

"You're a natural leader, just like her. You just don't know it yet. But there are great things lying before you. Often gruesome and terrible, but still great. You're a survivor, Jenna Melara, always remember that." For a moment, I'm too stunned to say anything. That sounded suspiciously like something a Jedi would say, right? All kinds of cryptic, but of great wisdom. For years, Mo'an just was the friendly and quiet servant. Indispensable, yes, but always just… a servant. And suddenly, he says those things and he appears like he's someone completely different from what he always used to be. It scares the living daylights out of me.

"Mo'an… promise not to tell anybody else. Keep that to yourself. And… Gods, do I know that I'm asking a lot, but _please_ keep an eye on Yasha and Ced, but on Ced especially. He's capable of doing a _lot_ of stupid things."

Mo'an smiles, and suddenly he's the friendly old man again I know. "Of course, Miss Jenna. I'll do everything in my power to keep Master Ced from doing stupid things. Even if that power is limited." What did he mean with that? That his powers are limited because he's a servant? Or that his Jedi powers don't reach that far? What?

A shame I don't get to ask, because suddenly a speeder cab is appearing at the end of the stairs. Our clue to leave. With a shrug of my head I tell Xanas to go down, but for me there's still one last thing to do. After putting my bag down, I take a step towards Mo'an and engulf him in a hug. I know it's so totally against what I was told as a kid, but everything's different now. I'm the head of a whole family, on the way of becoming an officer, and half in love with my future subordinate. And Mo'an obviously is more than meets the eye. After a stunned second, he finally hugs me back, giving me the feeling that I have at least someone on this planet I can trust with my life.

When we break the hug, he smiles at me and says: "May we both live to share another hug like this. And may the Force be with you, Jenna Melara." A strange sadness engulfs me when I suddenly have the feeling that we'll never see each other again, but I quickly crash it under a mental heel and turn around, hoping that everyone will think that the tear in my face are only because of the wind that is blowing stronger and stronger now.

When I get into the cab, Xanas wants to say something, but I give him an ice-cold look and snap: "I don't want to hear it, Private. And I don't want to talk about it either. Not now. Not on the transport. Not ever. Understood?"

Gritting his teeth he gives me an equally cold stare and answers with: "Yes, Ma'am."

Inside me, I feel something cry out in pain and then die. It's as if everything we built up in the last two weeks was destroyed by just one bout of _totall_y misplaced loyalty. I want to cry. Hard and loud. But all I do is turn away from him and look out of the window. After all, I'm a big girl now, and about to become his superior. There'd be no room for any romance anyway.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, that's the end of Part Two. I know I took my time, and I'm probably just writing this for the big virtual vacuum, but I still like doing it. And if someone among those who occasionally have a look at the Jenna-stories like them as well I'd be delighted if they said so. Pretty please? 


End file.
